


Angel (A Christmas Story)

by Spn_kink_sock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Mpreg, Omega Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Prince Castiel (Supernatural), Unobtainium, Unrequited Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, just a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28294815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spn_kink_sock/pseuds/Spn_kink_sock
Summary: This started out out as a fill for a prompt that wanted a spunk drunk Omega Castiel who just can’t get enough. Then somehow, I decided it wasn’t come he was drunk on, but Dean. It slowly morphed into this inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies monstrosity you see.  If you can’t write self-indulgent fluff at Christmas, when can you write it?***Dean was just looking to blow off some steam and met Angel, an Omega that wouldn’t give out his name, in a dive bar. What was supposed to be a one night stand turned into more than Dean could ever imagine.It should have been so simple for Castiel- meet an Alpha, lose his virginity and conceive the child that would finally get him out from under his mother’s thumb. He never meant to fall in love. He never meant to meet his one True Mate, not in a dive bar in Lawrence, KS.But love is never simple when you’re not just any Omega, but the Crown Prince of Eden, the only source of Angelthenium, a powerful mineral that might just be able to power the whole world.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 229





	Angel (A Christmas Story)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, still feeling weird about comments, so commenting turned off. If you liked though, please, please take a moment to click on the kudos button.

The Come Right Inn had a reputation as being the raunchiest, rowdiest Alpha bar in town, always busy, always the best place to blow off a little steam, especially if you wanted to meet a Beta. Not the kind of place where a good kind of Omega would be seen. Dean preferred Beta women for a night of no strings fun mostly. You could meet an Omega here but they were not the kind of Omega that you could take home to meet Mama and they were mostly pretty desperate. Dean had grown to hate picking them up. Made him feel like he was taking advantage. He wasn’t that guy.

But Thursday nights were pretty quiet. Dean liked to catch a little down time after his shift at the garage before he had to go back home to Sammy and the kids. They weren’t his kids, no sir. Dean wasn’t that kind of Alpha, even though it could be kind of tough, sharing a house with a fertile, wonderful smelling Omega that was strictly off limits. Sammy had run into a little trouble when he went away to college and had come home a year short of graduation with twins in his belly and an absolute refusal to say who the father was. So, Dean stepped up and supported his brother and the twins. The kids were five now, getting into everything and being a total pain in the ass. Well loved pains in the ass, but even so. Dean’s need to blow off a little steam was getting stronger and stronger all the time. He drank his beer and wondered if anything might come along that would allow him to let a little loose.

Dean had a nagging thought that he should probably go home, that there was something he should be doing right now. He didn’t get up though. It had been a long week. It was getting close to Christmas, so people were getting ready for the long road trips home. They wanted snow tires put on and hoses and belts checked. A lot of little piddly stuff that didn’t earn him a lot of money, but it was his shop, so he took on the extra time this stuff took. Then, there was the evening class he was taking so that he could get certified to work on cars with the new Grace Industries motors. Not that you ever worked on a Grace Industries motor itself. The motor was a black box, sealed and mysterious, but enough power came out to power a car and then some. No one outside of Grace Industries knew how the engine worked, except that it was powered by Angelthenium, which was an ore they dug out of the ground in this super small country somewhere. It was all super mysterious.

The nagging thought didn’t go away, but he just kept sitting there. He was going to at least finish his damn beer before he went home. He thought about how it was almost Christmas. Even here in the shabby confines of the Come Right, they’d decorated- a little fake tree on the end of the bar, a fringed banner over the beer mirror that said, “Merry Christmas”. Also, on the door of the men’s room, a wreath made of beer cans. All this fake cheer was almost enough to make him gulp down the rest of his beer and head home. 

Then the twink walked in. 

He wasn’t Dean’s normal type. He’d been hoping to meet a Beta for a little fun, definitely not this Omega. Dean wanted an Omega a little more like Sammy, with some substance to him and some height. Someone you didn’t feel you were gonna break in half if you were getting into it hot and heavy with him. 

This Omega was shorter than Dean and more finely boned, almost delicate. He looked confused as he walked in, like he wasn’t sure why he was in the place. It was not the hungry, even desperate look that the usual kind of Omega that walked in would give. No. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be here and seemed on the verge of backing right out. Probably should get out. His hair was tousled and dark, cut a lot shorter than you’d see on a typical Omega and he wore a trench coat. He looked like he was wearing his older brother’s clothes. He smiled then, at Dean, and he was really pretty. Even without the sweet smell of innocent Omega drifting in his wake, you could tell he was Omega when he smiled, something about how the eyes twinkled and his expression. He was just too damn pretty for this world. Dean went back to sipping his beer, assuming that the Omega would figure out very shortly that he should get his pretty ass out of here before trouble happened 

So Dean just about choked when the Omega was suddenly at his side and said, “Excuse me, I was wondering if you would like to take my virginity.”

Dean coughed up some beer, then sputtered, “You can’t just go up to a random Alpha and ask that kind of thing!”

“I don’t understand. That is the procedure, is it not? If an Omega wishes to engage in intercourse without the assumption of a pair bond beginning to form, he seeks out an establishment like this one and makes himself available to an Alpha that appears have some interest. You did appear to take some interest in me, did you not?”

“A virgin Omega probably hasn’t ever walked into this place,” Dean said. “The kind of Omega that walks in here rang that bell long ago. What’s a nice little Omega like you want to get rid of your V-card for anyway? Keep it and like, get a nice Alpha and mating and an apple pie life.”

“My mother intends a mating for me that is anathema to me. Since I refuse, she plans to send me to St. Misha’s Convent and I don’t wish to go. They only take virgin Omegas. It seems like the obvious solution to my problem.”

Yeah, well, nothing ruined an Omega’s life quicker than a bad mating. Anything had to be better than the choice of that or Omega convents. It wasn’t like it would be exactly hard or distasteful to help a guy out. Only thing was, Dean couldn’t help but feel like this was a kid, because even thought he wasn’t much younger than Sam, this kind of innocence made him seem like a kid. Dean wasn’t even sure if he was over the age of consent for an Omega. It just seemed like the Omega might not have all the facts. There were reasons that good Omegas didn’t come into bars like this and didn’t give up their v-card before mating. There were risks. Still, the kid was fashion model pretty and he smelled real good, even over the stale beer and cigarette stench of the Come Right. 

“You’re old enough to be in this bar legally, right?” Dean asked. “Because no offense, you look kind of like you’re tipping to the wrong side of jailbait and that’s a hard no for me.”

“I’ll be twenty-five next Thursday,” the Omega said. “I believe that is over the age of consent almost anywhere, except for a few backwards countries that do not recognize an Omega’s ability to consent at any age. It has been pointed out to me many times that I appear younger than I am.”

“Sorry. It’s just I’m not that Alpha, you know?”

“No offense was given,” the Omega said. “I assure you, I am of age, of sound mind and body and desirous of intercourse, especially with you.”

“You know the risks, right, darling?” Dean asked. 

“You mean the possibility of pregnancy? I am aware and am willing to risk it.”

“That’s only one of them, Princess,” Dean said.

“Do not call me Princess,” the Omega said, firmly, even crossly. Some Omegas didn’t mind feminine endearments. Sammy didn’t like it but he put up with from Dean, so he got called Princess all the time. Other Omegas would get angry if you did. Dean decided he’d avoid the girliest names.

“Fine, you’re not a Princess. Whatever. I could be one of those killer sociopaths.”

“No one who smells like you do would be that. From your scent I can tell that you are one of the most kindest, loving, caring Alphas there is. It drew me right to you.”

“Psh. You can’t say that at the Come Right. I got a rep to maintain. Anyway, you know you can get addicted,” Dean straight up said. 

People didn’t talk about it in polite company, not even in impolite company like him. Omegas straight up got drunk on Alpha come, regardless of how it got into their body, in their hole, pussy or mouth. Sometimes even if they didn’t swallow but spit it out, it was enough. Condoms helped but not entirely. Some Omegas, not all of them, got addicted to the drug like effect off Alpha semen, some a lot quicker than others. Some just had this natural susceptibility to it and one time was all it took. Dean didn’t want to be responsible for some Omega that got in over his head in that regard. He preferred Omegas, of course, though most of his prior partners had been Beta women, whose bodies saw nothing special about Alpha come.

“Again, I am aware of the risks. I have done my research. It seems negligible compared to the other very real risk I am facing of being forced into a convent.”

The Omega seemed desperate and he smelled so damn good. Like gingerbread and the warmth of home and a thunderstorm in a pine forest. It smelled of all kinds of good things that Dean couldn’t even label. Better than Sammy, if that was possible. Dean knew that he should just gently let the Omega down, that it wasn’t the smart thing to get involved any further. He wasn’t smart. He knew that and he knew he was going to do this thing. Dean scooped an arm around the Omega’s waist and pulled him close, then, when the Omega seemed pliant and agreeable, right onto his lap. He signaled the bartender for his tab. 

“Well, I guess I can help you out with that nasty old virginity of yours then, darlin’,” Dean said, pressing his lips to the side of the Omega’s neck, close to where the scent glands were clustered, just checking to see if the scent was the real deal and not one of those really good perfume fakes they were selling these days. Dean had been fooled before that way, ended up in bed once with an Omega who smelled like cooked cabbage in the morning though he’d smelled like toffee the night before. Dean sniffed deeply and even licked the side of the Omega’s neck quickly. Oh, yeah, this Omega was the real deal. The scent got more intense the closer Dean got to the gland. The Omega squirmed on his lap and the scent of slick subtly added itself to the immediate area. 

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Dean asked. “I like to know at least a first name if I’m going to get it on with someone.”

The Omega hesitated, then said, flatly, “I would rather prefer not to say. I understand if that is what they call a ‘deal breaker’ and I will find another Alpha.”

The Omega even used air quotes as he said it. 

“No strings is no strings. It’s fine, Angel,” Dean said. The Omega smiled again at the endearment. He seemed to like that one, so Dean decided that was his name for the night. “So, you want to get out of here and get you taken care of?”

“I thought. I mean, the rest room is right there,” Angel said. 

Dean grimaced at the thought. Bathroom stall sex just wasn’t his idea of a good time. “You’ve obviously never been in that bathroom. No, I just found an Angel and I’m not de-hymenating him the bathroom of the Come Right. I know how to treat an O right. Did you drive here? You got a car in the lot?”

“No, I walked here from the bus stop,” Angel said. 

Dean was soon paid up and they were walking outside. It was a fresh night, but not too cold. There was maybe the hint of snow in the air. About what you’d expect for just before Christmas. He led Angel to his Baby and opened the passenger door for him. “We could get a room. We’d have to go into Kansas City. It’s not far. The one hotel in town is kind of gross and I know the desk clerk. He’s a real gossip.”

“I would much prefer not to return to Kansas City.”

“Or there’s this place about ten minutes from here. Old hunting cabin I inherited from my uncle. Not much to speak of, but there’s a bed.”

“That will be fine.”

“Can I scent you again, Angel?”

The Omega nodded and tilted his head to give Dean access to the scent glands. Outside, he smelled even better without the grunge of Alpha musk and spilled beer to cover it up. Dean could feel himself getting hard, just from the scent of it. 

“My scent alone give you an erection?”

“Yeah, it’s gorgeous, Angel. Let’s get out of here before I throw you over the trunk of my car and fuck you right here in the parking lot.”

“I don’t think so. I plan to lose my virginity, not get arrested for indecent exposure. What do I call you, Alpha?”

“Just call me Dean.”

“Okay, Dean, please take me to your cabin.”

A moment later, Dean stuck the key in the ignition and Baby roared to life, her huge gas powered engine purring like a big cat. She was his pride and joy, fully restored and as much original as was possible. He’d done all the work on her himself.

“You have an internal combustion engine still?” Angel asked. “The conversion kits for Grace Engines are quite reasonably priced and net carbon negative.”

“I won’t say I didn’t think about it. It would save me tons on gas money for sure,” Dean said, stroking Baby’s dashboard. “Gas gets more expensive every year. But Baby here’s almost all original and over forty years old. It just didn’t seem right to rip out her heart and replace it with a little black box. I got no problems with the Grace Engines in new cars, but it wasn’t right for Baby and me.”

“I suppose that is understandable if bull headed.”

They were on the road in minutes. As Dean said, it didn’t take long to drive outside of town, to Bobby’s old hunting cabin. It wasn’t much, like Dean said. There were just the three rooms, the main room, a bedroom and a bathroom. It was a literal log cabin, though the bathroom was a lean-to addition sided in board and batten. There was the three season porch, semi-enclosed and sort of a counted as a room.

“I am loathe to go inside,” Angel said. “It’s such a lovely night, hardly cold considering how late in the year. I rarely get out of the city like this. Perhaps we could sit awhile on the porch? I know it might be chilly, but maybe you could light a fire in that fireplace I see?”

So Dean got the fire going, thankful that he’d opted to convert it from wood burning to LP gas burning. If he’d done the renovation a few year later, he might have used the Grace Industries RealFire(TM) space heaters, angelthenium powered. Angel waited on the wicker loveseat. As the porch warmed up, Dean got some more blankets from inside too, some pillows. You could make a nice little nest out here if you wanted. He’d thought about making the space more weatherproof for year round use, but he was out at the cabin infrequently enough already, most of the time, it was just him. This was the first time he’d taken a pick-up out here, but Angel was so very different than his usual pick-up.

Soon though, they were sitting so close to each other than Angel was all but in his lap. Dean moved slowly to kiss Angel, giving him plenty of time to move out of the way, to raise an objection, but Angel didn’t duck. He moved to meet Dean’s lips with his own and it was sweet, the way he kissed, almost innocent, but with a passion that seemed to lurk beneath the surface. Angel wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and pulled him close, breathing heavily, as if trying to inhale all of Dean’s scent at once. Dean put his hands on Angel’s hips and met no objections. Angel was warm, his flesh around his hips was soft, even a little plush. Good child bearing hips, Dean thought, oddly. Not like he was trying to knock this Omega up. 

“Yes, the question you have not asked yet. I would very much like to get out of my clothing,” Angel said. So Dean pushed the shoulders of his coat down and off, revealing a black suit under it. It was, all told, a lot of layers but Dean hadn’t exactly done a stripped down look himself, with four separate layers before he even put his coat on. Somehow, between kisses and scenting each other, Dean nipping at Castiel’s neck lightly, they managed finally to get naked. 

Angel was the most fucking gorgeous Omega Dean had ever seen. Much more shapely than his clothes would have suggested. They were, indeed, child bearing hips and Angel had the sweetest little tits you could imagine, just a little handful, no more than a B cup, tipped with little cherry pit sized nipples. Dean bent his head to Angel’s breasts, kissing the nipples, nuzzling them, unable to not imagine someday, them being used to nurse an infant. A baby that Dean could put in there. After all, Angel said he was willing to take that risk. He groaned. 

They ended up on the porch floor, the blankets and pillows making a nest, nice and cosy from the fireplace. They were lying together, Dean’s cock poking into Angel’s thigh. Dean slipped his hand between the slim, athletic thighs and sought out Angel’s pussy. It was dripping wet, Angel’s little cocklet standing a proud three inches. He stroked and caressed and soon Angel was gasping and riding his hand as Dean found a rhythm, bringing Angel off. Dean’s hand was drenched with slick.

“How do you want it?”

“Just there. Just. Yes. More. Please, Dean,” Angel said. “Ah, so good. Ah, I knew I had to do this. I didn’t know it would feel so good. More. Need you now. Need you to put your penis inside me.”

Well, since he put it that way.

Dean grabbed his discarded jacket and found the condom he’d put in there earlier in hopes of this or something like this happening. Angel grabbed it from him, put it away from them on the floor and said, “I would prefer you didn’t use that.”

“You know there’s pretty good chance I’ll knock you up if I don’t use this?”

“Yes,” Angel said. “I would love a child from a man who smells as wonderful as you do. I’m hoping to conceive.”

Maybe it was stupid of him, but the Alpha in him couldn’t resist that invitation. Dean left the condom where it was and rolled on top of Angel, positioned himself between Angel’s thighs and then, like he’d been sucked in, he was in Angel’s cunt. It was tight, wet and they were soon moving together, sighing. Angel urged him in deeper, wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders, his legs around Dean’s waist. Dean did that little hip roll thing that allowed him to put pressure on the internal O-gland and before long, Angel was screaming and his cunt was clenching, so it was time for Dean grab his own orgasm while he could. 

Dean’s balls clenched up tight, his knot grew to full size, feeling stuffed in tight and gripped hard. He was over the edge, flying. His come was striping the inside of Angel, flooding his pussy. They were locked up together, doing the thing that Alphas and Omegas had done from time immemorial. They stared at each other for a while, as if neither could quite believe what was happening- that Dean was coming bare inside Angel, filling him up with come that might knock him up or get him come drunk. Then Angel buried his face in Dean’s chest, unable to look him in the eyes any longer. Or as if he were dizzy, given how tight he clenched Dean. 

“Ah. That’s good,” Angel said after a long while, having been silent so long Dean was starting to worry. “Ah, so good. I never thought my first time would feel good at all. I was always told it would hurt, but I feel like I’m flying. Oh, yes. Ah. Fuck, this is amazing. You’re wonderful.”

That’s when Dean knew. Angel had been hooked. He was an easy come drunk. He might even be an addict now and that was on Dean. 

Angel tried to sit up even though Dean was still on top of him and they were still tied together. 

“Whoa, easy there, Angel,” Dean said. “You can’t move. You’ve got my knot in you. Just relax and be mellow, right? I know you’re a little bit high already. You’re spunk drunk is all.”

Angel giggled, then threw his head back and chest up in an out and out belly laugh. His wriggling was almost painful as it tugged on sensitive, blood engorged tissues. “No, I am not a little bit high. I am extremely high. This is amazing, Dean. If I’d know how wonderful sex is, I’d have tried it years ago. I am definitely going to have to have a lot of it to make up for lost time. Hold on. Let me go. I want to get up. I have to urinate.”

Then he tried to pull away from Dean again, but Dean hugged Angel tightly, willing him to just be still for a little while longer. He knew that sometimes Omegas could be a little uncomfortable in that regard when they were knotted. Depending on the position, an Alpha’s knot might be pressing right into the Omega’s bladder, making them feel like they had to go. But at the same time, they were joined together and it wouldn’t be pleasant if they were torn apart. Dean had heard of an Alpha that broke his knot that way. He shifted them a little so that hopefully, Angel wouldn’t feel so much internal pressure on his bladder. 

“Hey, you’ve got to calm down, Angel,” Dean said. “You could hurt us both. I can’t pull out yet. You’ve got me gripped tight down there.”

“Oh, yeah. Your knot is inside my vagina and you can’t pull it out,” Angel said. “It’s funny. Do you suppose at the beginning of time, when God made the first Alpha and the first Omega, do you suppose God consulted the first Omega? Omega, would you like your counterpart to have a bulb of flesh that enables his penis to remain trapped inside your vagina for up to half an hour after coitus? No, I don’t suppose the Omega was consulted.”

Then, mercifully, Angel just laid there in Dean’s arms, giggling softly to himself. He seemed blissfully happy at least. Dean had known a few Omegas who got these dizzying rollercoaster rides of drunkenness from come, laughing one moment, weeping the next. At least that type was normally clingy and didn’t keep trying to get up and walk away while his knot was still inside them. Meanwhile, Dean tried to think. Angel getting so come drunk so quickly was a bad sign that he might well be one of those vulnerable to addiction. At the very least, it made the Omega vulnerable, in danger of a lot of things. A lot of bad things could happen to an Omega that had this kind of reaction to come. They might end up in a bad way and Angel had been so innocent, so odd. Dean felt the protectiveness steal over himself. Like it or not, he had a responsibility to this Omega now, at least until it was clear if the Omega could control himself once he came down from the high. Until it became clear he wasn’t immediately addicted to Alpha come.

As always, an Alpha knot did eventually have to soften, though Dean took the full half hour and a little bit over this time. That was kind of worrisome. His inner Alpha really had taken a shine to the scent of this Omega and he always already thinking thoughts about just how adorable Angel was when he grinned and laughed. Angel’s hair was already tousled but a few strands fell agreeably across his forehead now. His eyes were so blue. Heavenly blue. He thought he might look into those pieces of Heaven forever.

Even so, Dean pulled out slowly, cautiously, as soon as he could. It was still a little tight. A trail of come dripped out after him and before Dean could stop him, Angel had swiped at it with a finger, then licked that finger. 

“Mmm,” he said. “That is nowhere near as awful as I thought it would taste. It looks so unappealing, but there is a certain flavor to it I find quite delicious. I would definitely like to try fellatio on you, Dean, and try ingesting your semen. I think a full course of debauchery is indicated, just to insure I am in no way suited to convent life any more. Perhaps you should take my virginity in every one of the major types of intercourse, just to be on the safe side.”

“Hey, uh, didn’t you say you had some personal business you had to take care of earlier. Go see a man about a horse.”

“I had not mentioned any business related to an equine.”

“I mean you said you had to use the little Os room. It’s inside, to the left. Can’t miss it.”

“Oh, yes, I do have to urinate. Thank you for reminding me of this.”

Angel got up and bustled into the cabin, still naked, not even thinking to gather up his clothes, modesty utterly forgotten. Dean didn’t mind. It was a shapely ass he watched as Angel headed for the bathroom. Then Dean pulled on his shorts and over those, his jeans, leaving the shirts for now. He put the cushions back where they belonged, tidied up. He found the unused condom where Angel had discarded it and put it away, wondering if he should have insisted on it, even though Angel had asked for it not to be used. Sure, it felt a lot better without. No Alpha wanted to use a condom if he could get away without, but maybe it would have been the smarter thing. Did he really want a chance to spawn a mini-me on a one night stand? It had been a pretty stupid thing to do, go bareback like they had. 

Dean tucked the condom back into his jacket pocket. He was, after all, known to do a lot of stupid things and it was too late now. He folded up the rest of his clothes, and Angel’s and brought them inside the cabin. He grabbed the blankets, turned off the fireplace, turned on the one indoors. He turned on some of the lamps, set the piles of clothes on the table. Then the shower in the bathroom turned on and Angel poked his head out of the bathroom. 

“Would mind if I showered? You left me quite messy. I mean, I’ve cleaned myself off as best as I could but I feel a shower is still indicated. Would you like to join me? Just for showering that is. Well, maybe more depending on your refractory period. You know, I like you. A lot.”

“Angel, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dean said. “I mean, maybe I should be getting you back to town. Are you staying with anyone? Can I take you there? I should probably get you someplace safe. You’re pretty come drunk.”

“I know. I feel marvelous. Better than I ever have. I’m happy for the first time that I can remember.”

“That ain’t you. That’s just brain chemicals sloshing around in your noggin, caused by what I put in you. That’s not real happy.”

“I seems real enough. It is my brain, after all, my neurotransmitters.”

“It just doesn’t sit right with me, you and me doing more, with you being like this. You got maybe someone I could call for you?”

“No, no one,” Angel said. “I’m not staying with anyone. My family was visiting Kansas City and I snuck away. Took the first bus I could find and that brought me to the town where we met. I do not wish to return to my family and I know no one in this area.”

Well, shit, Angel was definitely, officially, his problem now. It wasn’t like he could take an adult Omega back to his family if he didn’t want to go. Even if he could force the Omega, Sam would kill him. Shit, Sam was going to kill him anyway. Sam knew not to hold dinner for Dean on Thursdays, but he had to check in if he was going to be out past bedtime and he hadn’t. Dean checked his phone. No message but just a single surly, text, —Dean, where are you?—

“Hey, I gotta text someone, let him know not to wait up,” Dean said. He typed into the phone, —Sorry. Met someone. Got kind of busy. Don’t wait up—

The reply was even more sharp and surly. —Fine—

There were two things Dean knew. One, that Bert and Ernie were gay and two, if an Omega said that something was fine, it almost certainly was not fine. At least not fine in the sense that an Alpha would use the word. Living with his brother the way he did, it was almost like having a wife but without any of the wife benefits and except you could get divorced from a wife. He was stuck with Sam for the rest of his life like a kind of conjoined twin.

“You’re not already mated, are you?” Angel asked. “I’m not a homewrecker, am I? That the correct phrase I believe. What is the pop culture reference? Ah yes, am I your side chick?”

“No, I’m not mated or married. You’re not a homewrecker,” Dean said, knowing that Angel could never, ever be his side chick. “That’s my brother. I think he was counting on me to babysit or something. He likes to go out for a little fun on Thursdays too but it’s not like I made a promise I would.”

“Good, then get in here. I would very much like to fellate you in the shower.”

“Angel, no. We should talk before anything else happens,” Dean said. 

“You don’t want me perform fellatio on you?”

Dean’s cock, though spent and a little abused from all the tugging it had received as Angel tried to get away from him, still rose and chubbed up. Who the hell called it fellatio? Still, Dean couldn’t, in good conscience, do this any more. They could have sex, but there would have to be condoms and no coming inside of Angel. The Omega had gotten so obviously spunk drunk so quickly.

“Of course I want that,” Dean said. Who didn’t want a blow job given to by a beautiful Angel that smelled amazing and smelled even more amazing now that he’d picked up just a hint of Dean’s own scent? That wasn’t the point. It wasn’t about what he wanted. 

Hell, he wanted to just throw this twink of an Omega over his shoulder and carry him into the bedroom, toss him on the bed and fill him full of come, until the Omega was come drunk off his ass and totally addicted to it. Then he would bite him right on the neck, put his claiming mark there. Fill him up with pups. He wanted all of that and had since the first second he laid eyes on Angel, since that gorgeous smell had first filled his nostrils. It didn’t matter if you got an Omega addicted to your come if you mated and claimed them. If you did that, you’d always be there to see that your Omega got what he needed and eventually, the come drunk affect smoothed out, they said, the impairment lessened over time.

Done right, the intoxication strengthened the pair bonding. That was why they thought it existed at all. It was only dangerous when the Alphas weren’t around, when an Omega got dumped while in the middle of an incomplete mating. Then the Omegas would go around from Alpha to Alpha, desperate to find what they needed, some substitute for what they weren’t getting from the Alpha that addicted to him. It was never quite right, so the come drunk never smoothed out. You couldn’t start a pair bonding with one Alpha and hope to finish it with a different one. The Omega would never find true satisfaction for their jones. Dean knew some guys liked to get Omegas addicted and turn them into total comesluts and dump them. They liked to see Omegas desperate and needy and willing to do anything for their next hookup of come. That wasn’t him. He didn’t pull shit like that.

For the moment, Angel’s face was no longer happy. He was not grinning now. “You’re concerned for me. You’re afraid that I might develop an addictive response to your semen.”

“When an Omega gets come drunk so fast, it’s a lot more likely, okay? You’re like, high as a kite.”

“You are aware I researched this quite thoroughly,” Angel said. “I am aware that with the rapid intoxication response I’ve shown to your semen, that I am at high risk for being addicted to your semen already or certainly with a few more doses. That I could be at risk of incomplete mating syndrome. Understand that anything that could happen to me in this regard is an improvement over the future my mother plans for me.”

“You don’t want to get pseudo-pair bonded to some Alpha you just met in a place like the Come Right Inn. I’m just a tool jockey with an GED and a certificate from a community college.”

“There are medical treatments. Antagonists and receptor blockers. You will not be obligated to complete pair bonding me out of some Alpha sense of duty. It will not be easy or pleasant, but I can dry out off my come drunk and my neuroreceptors will forget they ever met you.”

“What if I don’t want you to forget?” Dean asked, somehow more hurt than he thought he would be. 

“Well, I’m getting whiplash here. Do you want me to become addicted to your semen and pair bond with you or not? And I’m getting cold. I’m cold and damp and sticky and I assume the hot water will run out soon. I would really like a hot shower.”

“Nah, I really like my showers, so when I inherited the cabin, I upgraded the hot water tank to the Grace Industries tankless water heater. You could take a hot shower all day if you want. Go on. You shower. I gotta think.”

Dean settled himself on the sofa and just couldn’t get comfortable. He couldn’t think either, at least not in any useful kind of way. All he could think was that there was an amazingly hot, wonderfully scented, completely naked Omega in his shower. An Omega that his inner Alpha wanted to keep around him forever. An Omega who Dean knew already that he wanted to mate. An Omega who had just given Dean an invitation to shower sex. 

And Dean had turned him down. 

Fuck. Could Alphas get rapidly addicted to Omegas somehow? Because all he could think about, the one and only thing on his mind right now was that Angel’s scent wasn’t in his nose and that was real uncomfortable. He couldn’t sit still. He felt itchy. Like a big chunk of him wasn’t where it was supposed to be. He felt exactly like he felt the day he quit smoking cigarettes after smoking since he was fifteen. He’d had to quit when Sammy came home pregnant. It wasn’t good for a pregnant Omega and pups to be around even the hint of second hand smoke. It hadn’t been fun, quitting nicotine. How much worse would it be to quit something he honestly could see few downsides to? He knew nicotine was bad for him, but Angel? How could he want to quit that scent?

Before Dean could finish wrestling with the uncomfortable feelings, the shower stopped and a few moments later, Angel reappeared in the main room of the cabin, wearing only a towel around his waist. His lovely little breasts were very much on display, nipples perked up and hard. Dean found himself wondering if they would grow when the Omega got pregnant. They often did and stayed that way. 

“Ah, that feels much better. All ready to get dirtied up again,” Angel said, toweling off his hair with a hand towel, spiking it up all over the place. Dean felt the urge to smooth it down, stroke those dark waves to smoothness. Angel grinned again, this time big and toothy. Yup. The shower had definitely failed to sober him up. Only time would. 

“Why don’t you show me the bedroom?”

“Maybe we should get some food,” Dean said. “A little dinner. That would help. I know I could eat.”

The thing was, Dean didn’t really have much here at the cabin- a few cans of soup. There wasn’t much point. He wanted to eat, he could go home. There was some beer. The one thing he didn’t need right now was more intoxicating substances in his blood stream. The scent of this Omega was more than he could handle at the moment without adding alcohol on top of it. They were only a few minutes outside of town. It wouldn’t be a big thing to get back in the car, get some grub. Maybe, if he could talk Angel into condoms and such, they could come back here and have some more fun times. 

“Well, I don’t want food at the moment,” Angel said. “I want more sex. Perhaps if you’re unwilling to provide that, you might drive me back to the establishment where we met and I could proceed with finding another sexual partner.”

“Whoa! No how, no way am I taking a come drunk, only recently dehymenated Omega back to the Come Right,” Dean said, feeling the protective instinct welling up in him. Maybe there was a bunch of jealousy and possessiveness in there too. No way was some Alpha knot head going to get his meaty hands on Angel. 

“So, you’re going to imprison me here then?”

“What? No. I’m not taking you there but I’d take you someplace else. I know you don't want to go back to your family, but maybe I should take you to a hotel and you could get a room for the night, sleep it off. Look, the kind of Alphas that go to that bar, other than me, aren’t good dudes. They take advantage of Omegas like you. Anyway, I’m not saying no more sex from me, period. I just need to eat dinner.”

“Well, they do say intercourse takes a tremendous amount of calories for the average Alpha,” Angel said. “And I could go for a burger. Do you know someplace we could get a burger?”

Half an hour later, they were sitting in the Tip-Top Cafe, in a booth and Margie, Dean’s favorite waitress, had just dropped off their plates. Angel had dove head first into his burger immediately, devouring it hungrily, despite his earlier protests that he did’t want food. He took several huge bites right off the bat, barely chewing before swallowing and heading in for the next one. His appetite was almost disturbing.

“This makes me very happy,” he said, smiling as he chewed, shoving it into his mouth again with an eagerness Dean had never seen in an Omega. 

“I love red meat,” Angel said when he finished the burger. Dean quickly swapped their plates, giving the Omega his untouched food and Angel picked up the burger without question and tore off another big bite, working through his mouthful quickly. Dean had never seen an Omega eat with such gusto, not even Sammy.

“Hey, don’t we all?” Dean said, picking up some of the fries that Angel had ignored.

“My mother doesn’t think that’s seemly for an Omega, so I’m not allowed it. Or to ever eat as much as I want. I could perhaps concede her point while I was still adolescent. I have grown too tall and muscular to be an ideal Omega. Perhaps limiting my food more while I was still young might have helped with that, but I am fully grown now and the damage has been done.”

That kind of hurt, hearing that, that Angel thought his mother would have been right to half starve him just to keep him short and slim like society’s ideal Omega. Dean thought about Sam and how Dean had half starved himself sometimes just so that Sam could get everything he needed and how Sam had grown up not just taller than Dean but sturdier too, with his massive shoulders. Hell, the doc had even said that Sam’s size had made it easier for the twins to come out as big and healthy as they had. Sam was a beanstalk, so that meant his torso had plenty of room for the twins to grow and come to full term. No, Angel might have been tall compared to the ideal, but if anything, he should have been better fed when he was young.

“No offense, but your mother is full of shit. I like an Omega that wants to eat and you are just about perfect the way you are. Well, perfect as far as I’m concerned.”

Angel didn’t answer but got to work quickly cramming the rest of Dean’s burger into his face. Yes, Dean had never seen an Omega enjoy his food more. He was almost jealous. And he was hungry, watching his burger disappear down Angel’s face.

“I’m torn. I want another, but I also want to get out of here,” Angel said as soon as he had finished the last crumb of burger. He hadn’t touched so much as a single French fry though. They compromised and before long, Dean and Angel were walking out of the Tip Top. A carry out order of several burgers only, no fries, was in a brown paper bag in Angel’s hands. 

“Back to your cabin?” Angel asked as they pulled out of the parking lot. “I know you said you would get me a room, but I don’t want our evening to end yet.”

“Me either,” Dean admitted as he turned onto the road out of town, headed back to the cabin. 

“There’s something else I want to eat more than burgers,” Angel said once they’d passed the city limits sign and were turned down the lonely county road that led to the cabin. Then, before Dean could stop him, Angel was down in his lap, unzipping Dean’s jeans and pulling out the cock that hadn’t been less than half hard the whole time since he’d met Angel. 

“Now, look at that beautiful manhood, just waiting for me to taste it,” Angel said. Then his lips opened and Dean suddenly found himself engulfed in Angel’s mouth, swallowed whole and his traitorous, greedy body wouldn’t let him stop the Omega. If anything, he wanted to grind up into the Omega’s mouth, work his way deeper into the hot, wet suction and just let go. Dean pulled the car off to the side of the road and put it in park, because hey, this could be dangerous, at least it could be if Angel was doing it right, which it showed every sign that he would be. 

“Angel, no,” Dean said. “We can’t. I can’t take advantage of you like this. You don’t want this.”

Angel lifted his head up, took his mouth off Dean’s cock just long enough to say, “Never tell me what I do or do not want.”

Then he got back to work, sucking Dean’s cock like it was a well paying job. 

“And I’m going to hell,” Dean said, relaxing into what seemed to be foregone conclusion now, wondering if he could have stopped the Omega if he tried. “Going to hell and Sam is going to kick my ass first.”

It wasn’t the greatest of blow jobs, just because there was something studied and practiced about it, like Angel had looked up how to do it on the computer and was following step by step instructions from some website. He didn’t let Dean get too deep, using his hands to stroke firmly up and down on most of the shaft, mostly only letting the tip and a few more inches get into his mouth, but fuck, it was still amazing. His Angel smelled amazing, his scent intensifying in the small space inside the car. It was just right, somehow, even as he knew that every minute that it went on made him a worse and worse person.

Dean kept his hands to himself, so that Angel could pull off any time he wanted to. He wanted to be sure that Angel knew that for this particular act, Angel was in the driver’s seat and clearly in charge. It stopped when Angel wanted it to stop. Not that he didn’t want to pull Angel’s head down, run his fingers through Angel’s hair and tug a little, fuck up into his face. He wouldn’t let himself. He wasn’t that kind of Alpha. In any case, he hardly had a chance. It just got so intense so fast. He was racing right to the point of inevitability. 

“Ah, ah, I’m gonna. Oh, fuck,” Dean said. “Gonna come. Can’t. Not in your mouth.”

Angel just sucked faster and harder, hollowing out his cheeks, tightening his grip on Dean’s cock, though he was a little more gentle on the knot, cradling it, not squeezing the life out of it like some of Dean’s former sex partners. Then Dean was gone and he was coming and Angel just hadn’t listened. Dean could feel him, swallowing deeply, making contented little grunts, as if he really liked the taste of come. Maybe he did. The addicted did. Dean’s inner Alpha loved hearing Angel swallow, feeling his throat move on Dean’s thigh. Dean felt guilty as hell about it, but he loved it. 

At last, Angel popped off Dean’s softening cock. He was grinning like a cat that at the canary and he said, “That was amazing. I hope I have a chance to do that to you again sometime before our time together comes to an end.”

“Who says it has to?” Dean said. “Come to an end, that is? People get mated to people they just met all the time if the scents are right. You smell just right. Perfect for me.”

“Let’s not talk about that now,” Angel said, quickly, in a way that pretty much shut down the conversation. “Besides, you owe me one.”

Angel took Dean’s hand and put it on his lap, so that Dean could feel the hard cock there, not big compared to Dean, but big for an Omega. Angel grinned as he tried to smash Dean’s hand down on his cock while grinding his cock up. “Feel that? Want you again so bad, Alpha. Need you to get me off.” The whole between the legs area of Angel’s pants were damp with slick, fragrant and delicious smelling. Damn, The whole car was going to smell like Angel and sex for weeks afterwards. It would permeate the seat cushions, a reminder of their night, which it seemed like it would be the only one, the way Angel had shut him down about mating. 

“Not eating you out by the side of the road,” Dean said, maybe a little more crankily than he meant. “Not when there’s a nice comfy bed less than five minutes away.”

So, they’d stashed the burgers for later in the mostly empty fridge. They’d hadn’t stripped down yet or gotten to the bed. Angel had tried to head that way, but Dean had put a hand on his shoulder and said, “I shouldn’t have let you eat my come in the car. I got no problem eating you out and making you come again and again, but I’m not letting you get any more of my come inside you. We can have sex again but I am using a condom. The more you get of my come inside you, the more messed up you’re gonna be.”

The look on Angel’s face had gone from happy and horny to crestfallen. “Maybe I want to be messed up. I want this from you.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t know. You’re in no state to consent to anything more,” Dean said. Angel was high as a kite, no doubt, from that last dose of come. Orally was the worst way to take it. Dean really, really should have stopped the Omega. “Maybe I’d better take you back to the city. Get you a room to sleep it off.”

Then Angel was suddenly out and out weeping. He, like Omegas could and did, had gone from a happy semen intoxication to a sobbing, emotional mess in about twenty seconds and a few words that, while harsher than Dean intended, were true. Angel had pretty much lost his words for the moment, so Dean had no choice but to take Angel to bed with him. Not for sex, but to hold him tightly and pet his pretty hair. Comforting him and holding him, both of them still fully dressed. It seemed like the Omega was mourning a lot more than not getting the sex he’d wanted, but something else entirely, like maybe whatever kind of life he had that had caused him to run away from his family in the first place. Honestly, Dean thought as he stroked the Omega’s brow, his family couldn’t be good for him, not from the few little things he heard about Angel’s mom. 

They fell asleep this way and Dean wished Angel would come to his bed every night forever after but he somehow knew it would never happen. 

He woke up with the sun streaming into his face, alone in bed. The place was quieter than it should be and he knew instantly that Angel wasn’t there with him. He was gone from the cabin. Dean hurled himself out of bed, thinking he should go run after him or something. The only way Angel would have gotten anywhere was on foot. Dean wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but a come drunk, and he would still be at least a little drunk even the next morning, was so vulnerable. 

There was a note on the table in the main room, a lonely, single piece of paper. It was nice paper. Thick, creamy, lightly textured stuff, it looked like it was torn out of one of those fancy blank notebooks. Angel’s handwriting was pretty, all loopy and stuff. 

“I’m sorry. I have to go. I wanted to stay with you, I really did, but duty calls. I’m sorry to leave you like this. I know it’s cowardly of me to take my leave with a note, but I don’t know how to say goodbye to you. 

“I think you were right. We are meant to be mates. I knew the instant I first caught your scent. But it can’t be. Hopefully I’ll have a little reminder of our night inside me. I will miss you for the rest of my life. —Angel.”

Dean crumpled the paper angrily, then smoothed it out again, carefully rubbing it against the table until it was mostly smooth, though the crease lines would be there forever. Then he started shutting the cabin down. He wanted to get out of here now and not come back. Maybe not ever. This little place was spoiled for him now. Maybe he’d put it on the market, come spring. He didn’t want to look at that porch and think about how perfect their one time had been. He didn’t want to shower and think about Angel wrapped up in only a towel. 

He checked the fridge. Angel had taken his burgers with him and there wasn’t anything perishable in it other than the beer. He took that out, pulled the plug on the fridge and then got to airing the place out, working on winterizing the plumbing. Luckily, he kept the tools and supplies he needed for that out here. 

There wasn’t much point to keeping the cabin open, really, not when his house was a mere ten minutes away. It was just a nice place to have a little quiet, a little mental space away from Sammy and the twins. He didn’t think he’d be back here any time soon. He didn’t want to think about what happened here or even really have time to think about things. 

Luckily, in the bustle of his family, there just wasn’t time to think or brood about anything. Two kids, both about five kept you busy enough you didn’t have to think about shit. You just survived. 

It was then that he remembered why Sammy sounded so pissed in his text last night. It was getting close to Christmas and he’d promised a real tree this year. He’d promised that they would all go shopping for it last night, a big trip out to the tree farm and cutting it down themselves. He was pissed at himself as he realized how he’d broken the promise he’d made to Sammy’s kids.

He hoped Angel didn’t catch pregnant. Really, really hoped he didn’t. Not because he wouldn’t step up and do child support if Angel came for it, though he thought Angel wouldn’t. That note seemed really final. He wanted the life he was trying to give to Sammy’s kids for his own kids. He wanted them to have a Dad. He didn’t think Angel would have a Dean in his life who would step up and be a father to kids that weren’t his own. His kid with Angel, if there was one, wouldn’t have a Dad because Angel had to go for reasons he didn’t explain and Dean couldn’t have understood even if he had. You didn’t walk away from your true mate. You just didn’t. Not when it was so obvious as it was. They were meant to be and now they never would be. He didn’t even know Angel’s real first name, much less a last one. 

Dean’s whole body ached like he had a hangover, a really bad got turnt the night before kind of hangover. No one ever said an Alpha could get drunk just off the scent of an Omega that was right for him, but that’s what it felt like had happened. He’d done stupid things, made bad calls. Acted on impulse. Mistakes were made. 

He hustled, getting the place closed down for the winter and maybe for always, so he could get home in time to pick the kids up from kindergarten. Friday was his day with them. He always took Friday off so he could take the Saturday hours that no one wanted at the garage. 

It didn’t take that long. The porch furniture came indoors. The pipes were drained and filled with antifreeze. He disengaged the black box from the tankless water heater. Windows were shut and locked. He grabbed anything in the cabinets and drawers that looked like it could be mouse or other vermin food. Then he was suddenly done, locking the place up and getting into Baby.

Like he predicted last night, there was a massive flood of Angel’s scent when he opened up the driver’s side door, plus his own sex scent. Yeah. He’d really done that. Really allowed an Omega to give him a blow job by the side of the road and then eat his come. When he knew that the Omega was already an easy come drunk. He kept a can of scent blocker in the car, thankfully, so he doused the passenger seat in it, spraying it all over, generously, until the mist of spray beaded up on surfaces and Angel’s scent was mostly killed, at least enough he could get in the car without feeling sick and anxious, that trying to quit smoking feeling just wrecking havoc with his calm. 

Once home, he headed into the kitchen. Sammy was waiting for him, watching the news, bitch face in place. He had coffee made at least, though he slammed Dean’s mug down on the table angrily, sloshing coffee over the sides.

“Met someone, huh? Was his name Jack, Jim or Jose this time? Or were you just working late at a Miller Time shift?”

“I met him, Sammy,” Dean said softly. “The one.”

“You’re sure?” Sammy asked. “Because I thought I found the one and when the chips were down, he definitely wasn’t it.”

“I’m sure,” Dean said. He grabbed his mug and took a big gulp. The coffee tasted flat, all but flavorless. Part of that might have been inhaling too much of the spray scent blocker, giving him temporary anosmia but he thought his whole life from this point forward would just be that much flatter and empty.

Sammy frowned, “You don’t seem happy. Where is he?”

“He’s gone. I don’t know why I wasn’t enough for him to stay,” Dean said, pulling the note he’d been left out of his pocket. Angel’s scent still lingered on it, just a little, even through the anosmia, like a kitchen a few hours after a peach pie was baked. Sam took it up and read it, frowning, his eyebrows doing that knit together thing. He sniffed it, subtly at first, then deeply, appreciatively.

“Wow,” he said. “No wonder. I mean, I love that smell and I’m another Omega. Dean, you know I don’t believe in that fated other crap, but I’m sorry. It sounds like you could have really had something. He did you dirty. He should at least have the balls to say goodbye to your face. But you’ll find another Omega that smells just as good, just as perfect. I don’t think that there’s just one other out there for us. I think the world is full of possibilities.”

“Nah, Sammy,” Dean said. “He’s the one. I guess you’ll just have to put up with me being your spinster brother and maiden aunt to your kids the rest of your life. I’m sorry I missed tree shopping with the kids. That’s the kind of shit Dad pulled all the time and I said I’d never do that. We’ll go tonight when you get home from school.”

“I’ll take the kids tree shopping myself. You should rest. You look like hell. Meeting the one like that, or even thinking you did, and losing them wrecks havoc on the endocrine system. Thank about how bad off I was when I came home. Get some sleep. But get a shower first. What did you do? Just douse yourself with scent block spray?” Sammy said. “I can do school pickup today. All I have to do in class is drop off my take home test and final paper.”

“‘M fine,” Dean said. “Some distraction will do me good.”

“Rest, take some aspirin and shower. Those scent blocker sprays are endocrine disrupters. Not good for you to use them as much as you do. Well, I gotta go but I’ll be back with the kids at one. We’ll figure out tree shopping then.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, about ready to rest his head on his arms and sleep right there at the kitchen table. “Oh, hey, you still got your usual overnight volunteer gig tomorrow night? Need me to be here for the kids.”

“Charlie’s coming to baby sit. Did you forget? It’s the annual Christmas Charity Ball for Safe Harbor. You said you’d take me. Tell me you didn’t forget?”

Dean remembered then. Safe Harbor was the shelter for Omega teens escaping sexual trafficking that Sammy worked for, plus did extra volunteer work for. He forced a smile onto his face. He hadn’t wanted to go in the first place, much less so now, but Sammy was pretty damn excited about it. It was really kind of a big deal for Safe Harbor. Sammy had fund-raised a whole table’s worth of sponsored seats, like ten thousand for each plate. It was definitely a thing and there was no way Dean could get out of it.

“What kind of Alpha would I be if I didn’t take my favorite Princess to the ball? The question is, are you up for that, Cinderella?”

“You can back out. I understand. It’s probably not the most exciting Saturday night, taking your baby brother to a small town charity event.”

“Nah, I’m good. Get going or you’ll be late turning in your papers.”

A few minutes later and Sam was silently pulling out of the driveway in his minivan. Dean had bought it for him, for carting the kids around. He might not have wanted to put a grace engine in Baby, but for Sammy he’d bought a new car with one- reliable, economical and and sensible. Safe for carting kids around in. Dean turned up the volume of the news and watched a little as he sipped his coffee, trying to distract himself from his aching heart. 

“In other news,” the TV anchor Omega said. He was a blond, pretty O, well dressed. In short, the usual type you saw reading this crap. Pretty but bland. “A spokesperson for the Royal family announced that Omega Crown Princess Castiel of the Principality of Eden, Duchess of Arcadia, has returned to his retinue this morning, after having been missing for nearly twenty hours yesterday. Reportedly, the Omega Princess slipped away from security at his hotel and was seen, on security cameras, leaving the Presidential Suite at the Hilton alone. It is undetermined where he spent the time between leaving the Hilton and returning. The Principality of Eden rose to international prominence just a few short years ago when the largest ever vein of Angelthenium was discovered within its borders. The Royal family also are the majority shareholders of Grace Industries.

“The Royal Family was visiting the United States on a goodwill tour of the country making stops in Kansas City, Tulsa and several other Midwest cities where Grace Industries plants are opening. The Princess’s disappearance had nearly caused a major diplomatic incident, with Dowager Reagent Naomi calling for a full Secret Service manhunt in conjunction with agents from the Eden Security Forces. The Dowager Reagent has not made a statement yet since the return of the Princess. What’s that? Apparently, we’re going live to a press conference now. I’m hearing that the Crown Princess himself will speak.”

The screen went to one of those usual press conference set ups and then, some people walked out onto the stage. 

“Angel?” Dean whispered, wondering if he was mistaken. From a distance, the man on the screen could have someone that just looked like Angel. Then there was a close up of the Crown Princess and Dean knew it could be no mistake. That this could only be the Omega he’d spent last night with, the one that was his true mate. 

Angel looked beautiful. His suit was a lot better fitted than the baggy thing he’d worn last night and there was no trench coat in evidence. He was dressed more like you’d expect an Omega to be dressed- fitted to allow for wider hips and to enhance the appearance of curves. The suit was simple black but looked to be custom made, with a pristine white shirt and a bright blue tie. His hair was not the tousled mess it had been but he was perfectly coiffed, like it had been done by a thousand dollar a hour hairdresser. He probably had permanent staff for that. He looked, not just beautiful, because he had been that and more last night, but perfect. His innate beauty had been groomed and coiffed and dressed to perfection. He was everything you ever thought an Omega Princess would look like and Dean’s chest ached unbearably just to look at him.

Angel stepped up to the podium, “Firstly, I wish to apologize for the unnecessary distress and worry that I have caused to so many during my recent absence.”

Dean didn’t hear any more. It was like there was this great roar of white noise in his ears. Angel was royalty. His Angel was a princess. Angel was freaking rich. Grace Industries must be worth zillions. No wonder he didn’t want Dean. No wonder mating Dean had never even been a consideration. He’d been used to get rid of the virginity Angel hadn’t wanted and there was nothing more there, except maybe a possible baby that Dean could have no part of. No wonder he’d run away from Dean, first chance he got.

Dean was just a mechanic who was learning to work on cars with Grace Engines. Angel owned Grace Industries and all the Angelthenium that ran every single Grace engine. People called him ‘Your Highness” or whatever. Angel was a Princess and could probably order Dean’s head cut off or something if he wanted it. Angel probably earned enough cash to buy and sell Dean every minute. Fuck. Sammy was never going to believe this. No one would ever believe that he’d met an Omega Princess at the Come Right Inn and spent most of the night with him. He vowed silently to never tell anyone.

Dean shut off the TV set and headed upstairs to the third floor where he had his bedroom. He could probably fit in a nap before Sammy came home with the kids. He thought about getting the shower that Sam had told him take, but it seemed like too much effort. He walked past the bathroom and found his bed. A copy of “Busty Omega Beauties” crinkled as he laid down, left there in bed after his ‘extra circular activities’ just the night before last. He looked at the picture of the centerfold Omega it was open to but felt no arousal at all at the sight of double-d cups laid bare and long legs opened in a revealing spread. He was ruined for other Omegas, forever. He shut the magazine and shoved it under his bed, then fell face first into the pillow and was asleep before he could even pull the blanket up over his body.

***

Press conference over with and retreat into his bedroom complete, Castiel slumped. No collapsed onto the bed. He grimaced at the beige stain his face had left on the white pillowcase.

“Meg?” He called. “Meg, come get me out of this makeup. You know I hate to be painted up like this.”

“No, you know that you’re expected on the tour of the new plant in Lawrence in two hours, Lydia is on her day off and we do not have time to get you dolled up again,” Meg said. 

She was his personal dresser. There was the wardrobe manager and her assistant, the makeup artist, the hair dresser and a general maid, but she was the manager of all of that. Technically, she had a title- Mistress of the Gowns, but Castiel had never worn a gown at least not since young childhood, when he had started refusing them. She liked to call herself his lady in waiting. She was short, with bleached blonde hair that wasn’t particularly well done, nor was she ever particularly elegantly dressed herself, but she had a talent for making him look put together. She was more valuable in many other ways. If not for her assistance, he would never had made good his escape. She was his valet, but so much more. 

“So, I’ll go on the tour without makeup. I do make appearances without it,” Castiel said, reaching for the tissue box. Maybe he would wipe the worst of it off himself and she would have no choice but to help him with the rest. She was faster than he was and had grabbed the tissues from his reach just before his fingertips touched the box. 

“You look like hell without it,” she said, brandishing the box, tauntingly. She was the only one who dared speak to him like this, which was why he had kept her near him. “At least at the moment. You have bags under your eyes big enough for your whole touring wardrobe. Your suit is getting rumpled. Sit up, buck up and cowboy up. You got a long two weeks before you can get home and back to real work. Until then, you gotta play the fairy tale Princess role, Clarence.”

“No, I will not cowboy up,” Castiel said, snippily. “I don’t see how the moving of cattle on horseback has anything to do with any of this ridiculous charade.”

She tilted her head and looked at him with a half smile, bemused. They had been to school together, her a scholarship girl. She had helped him in so many ways, navigating the water of emotional complexities he found hard to understand much less thrive in. She was guide and muse and best friend. He would be sitting in a convent or dead without her, one of his half brothers on the throne with his mother holding the puppet strings.

“If you want to get out from under your mother’s thumb and win this long game, you will stop moping and you will put on your pretty face and you will do all the ceremonial things and cut all the red ribbons with ridiculous oversized novelty scissors. Your mother is Dowager Regent for three more years or until it’s determined that you mature enough to rule in your own right. You will not get there by shirking your duty to country and company, even it is only ceremonial.”

Castiel sighed. “You are right, of course. You always are.”

“Then why won’t you take the antagonists? You’d feel a millions times better if you would just let yourself fully sober up from your little spree.”

“No, I just. I’m not ready to let go of him yet,” Castiel said, thinking of the Alpha he’d never expected to meet. 

It had been clear to him that losing his virginity had been of upmost importance. So long as he had it, Mother might be able to maneuver him into the convent one way or another. His personal purity was of little import to himself. He hadn’t, until last night, thought sexual intercourse was something he wanted to engage in. It had never particularly appealed to him, seeming risky, messy and chaotic. That had not, in fact changed. He still thought of it as all of those while still craving it with one particular person like he had never, ever wanted something before. He could feel himself dampen with slick, his gut churning, as he thought about Dean. He ached to feel again the way that Dean had moved inside of him. Castiel thought that Dean’s shoulders were perfect, so wide and strong, his abdomen so defined and powerful. Castiel couldn’t stop remembering the core power that had been behind Dean’s thrusts as they coupled. It was sinful what that Alpha could do to Castiel.

But it wasn’t just the sex. The man himself had been beyond sweet, naturally protective of Castiel in a way that went bone deep and was as natural and unthinking to him as breathing. Another Alpha might have relished seeing Castiel get hooked the way he had. Dean had been frustratingly hesitant to engage in the amount and kind of sexual intercourse that Castiel had wanted. They’d only had coitus the once and though Castiel could tell Dean wanted far, far more of it, he had held himself back out of concern. 

“Oh, Cassie, you got it bad for this Alpha, don’t you?” Meg said, her voice soft and low with concern. “And that ain’t good. What if you aren’t a spunk drunk? What if this is a case where he’s the One.”

That was a thought even more horrifying than being addicted to Dean’s semen or being in the middle of forming a normal pair bond. Castiel wanted to believe in True Mates. He did. But he never thought he would have one and if he did, what a torture. He had goals, plans for Grace Industries. Was he supposed to throw those aside to fall into bed with this Alpha.

“It is of no import. I know my duty, to country and to the world. There is no time in my life to get entangled with an unsuitable Alpha.”

He would not tie himself to any Alpha in mating, unless, to one that was a suitable match that might advance his agenda. Sex was one thing. Castiel’s sexual purity was not, traditionally, a barrier to holding the throne in Eden. In fact, getting pregnant would be the most direct proof of his maturity and fitness to hold the throne. Three of the monarchs in the last two centuries had been unmated or unmarried Omegas who’d born at least one child out of mating. Princess Raphael the Younger, had ruled from 1869 to 1892 while bearing twelve children’s from what was estimated to be ten different Alpha fathers, most of who were not other royals or even nobility. One child would be enough for Castiel. One child given to him by one particular Alpha. 

That was yet another reason not to take the antagonists and stop his newly kindled addiction to Dean’s semen and need to complete the pair bond. The load of high powered hormones would also pretty much flush the lining tissues of his uterus and end any chance he had of getting pregnant with Dean’s child. He would withstand the illness of withdrawal and then the long, grinding need for the mate that would never be there if there was a chance of conceiving Dean’s child. Once he had the child or it was clear there would never be one, he would see about adjusting his brain chemistry then, most likely, trying again. Now that he’d outflanked his Mother in the matter of his virginity, it would probably be easier to find a suitable partner back at home, at least to bear the child he had to have. A child was a necessity, but if Castiel didn’t get pregnant by Dean, he would mourn this to his end days. 

It was more than just that, of course. If he took the antagonists, he would forget what Dean smelled like. It would block off any chance he had of mating him fully, completing this inadvisable pair bond, even if they were to meet again. The chance of them becoming full mates was now very, very unlikely, but if he took the antagonists, it would be impossible. Better to suffer the pain of it now than that. 

Was Meg right? Were theyTrue Mates? If they were, that meant something to Castiel even if the Princes and Princesses of Eden did not leave mating to fate or love.

“Well, don’t call me in the middle of the night when you’re jonesing for dick you just can’t have,” Meg said. “Please get off the bed. I have get you presentable for that spontaneous little lunch you’re supposed to have with Duke Michael before we head off to Lawrence.”

With that, Balthazar, his personal Secretary, appeared in the door way, looking in at them. He checked his watch impatiently. “Listen, darling, I know that the Crown Prince is never late and only ever arrives precisely when he means to arrive, but perhaps you could mean to arrive to your lunch on time? We do have a very packed day ahead of us.”

Only Balthazar could get away with calling him ‘darling.’ 

Castiel groaned. Not even a sandwich and fruit salad were unchoreographed in his life. He got out of bed and let Meg have his jacket. The wardrobe assistant appeared as if by magic and ferried the jacket away to be steamed and brushed. Despite her saying she had no time, Meg tucked tissues into his collar and got Lila, the hairdresser, who was their backup makeup artist as well, to work touching him up and fussing with his hair a little. He hated it. He felt like a painted whore wearing the stuff, but bowed to their expertise. It was funny how much work and layers went into making him look ‘natural’ and like he wasn’t wearing any makeup at all. 

Finally, he was all back together, wondering it was so important he look like some celebrity. Surely one of his half siblings or cousins with natural good looks could be roped into these goodwill tours, allowing him to remain home in Eden where he was actually needed for the work. There was still so much work to be done getting a Grace Engine in every household, in every car, in the factories and power plants.

Balthazar took charge of him once he was all put together, leading Castiel and the security team down the back hallways of the hotel to avoid the press and public waiting out front. Waiting at the service elevator, Balthazar turned to him and said, “You don’t look well, darling. Perhaps we should send you home. I’ll call Inias and we can shuffle things around. We could have Princess Anna here in a jiffy to cover the rest of your tour. And Michael could pick up a few of your engagements.”

“No, I know my duty,” Castiel said, even as he did yearn to go home. “I will be fine. We knew incomplete mating was a risk and a possibility from the start.”

The little bistro where he was to meet Michael had been throughly security checked, but at turned out to also have the virtue of having decent enough food. Normally, when the team was sent ahead, they never bothered checking on that. You would think that someone would have the presence of mind to place a sample order, but no one ever did. Castiel had eaten more rubbery chicken and salads slimy with too much dressing than anyone should have to bear.

The bistro was a lovely little place and Castiel wished he could visit it someday without a security team and retinue, just as if he were any other diner. The tables had white tablecloths that glowed in the focused overhead lights. The main room was dimly lit though, rich, dark wood paneled the walls, a RealFire glowed realistically in the firebox of the big fieldstone fireplace. Americans mostly gravitated to bright, even tacky reds, greens and metallic golds for Christmas decorations but here the only concession to seasonal decorating were clumps of white fairy lights on copper wires in hand blown glass vessels as the table decorations. It was reserved, elegant. Normally Castiel would approve, but the bold bright ornaments you saw elsewhere were growing on him.

Michael had been waiting for him and stood up to greet him, then bowed. If Castiel could get rid of one thing, it would be the bowing. Instead, he stepped forward and embraced his older half brother as if they had the warm and loving relationship that was presented to the world. Michael was stiff in his arms at first, but then yielded just the right amount to appear to be hugging him back. 

“Brother,” he said. “I am glad to see you back safely.”

There were no reporters actually allowed in the restaurant, but there were other diners. It looked bad for the Royals of a foreign power to show up and evict every customer from a restaurant, so handful of tables were plain clothes security agents. The rest were ostensibly paying customers, but Castiel was pretty certain that most of the paying customers were in fact journalists of some stripe or another. One of them was pretty obvious with how she was using her phone to record video. They must play their parts and present the united front of family to the world.

“You look like hell, Castiel,” Michael whisper hissed at him as they sat down. “What happened to you?”

“I went on a bender,” Castiel snapped. Quietly, but definitely a snap. He hoped the ire in his voice was clear.

“Are you still semen intoxicated?”

Castiel stared at his half brother, giving him what he hoped was a withering stare. 

“It is of no import,” Castiel said. It was a matter of opinion if he still counted as intoxicated. He was hungover, yes, but truly felt no drunkenness, no impairment now, other than the grinding want for his Alpha.

Then Michael dumped a file folder on the table, plain Manila, no identifying label on it. He said, “Dean Michael Winchester, age 29, of Lawrence, Kansas. Owner of two properties, one with a mortgage, one without. A large, charming farmhouse style residence at 503 S. Main Street, in Lawrence, which he shares with his brother Samuel John Winchester and his two nephews Robert and John Winchester. The other, the one without the mortgage, a property on county road 1200 West, twenty-five acres mixed woods, some pasture, and a two room, six hundred and fifty square foot shack. Also owner of an automobile repair shop in Lawrence and a junkyard just north of Lawrence. He is currently enrolled in a Grace Engines certification program. He’s the recipient of a General Equivalency Degree, which is to say, a high school dropout and an associates degree in Automotive Technology from Johnson County Community College. No criminal record as an adult, though there is a sealed juvenile record that not even I could get my hands on. I’ll leave this here for you to study later, so that you can fully understand the type of Alpha that you elected to consort with.”

All the while he was saying this, Michael was smiling genially, as if he were discussing the new Grace Industries plants they were opening and not revealing that he’d dug into every corner of the life of Castiel’s one night stand partner.

In return, Castiel smiled back, remembering that in most of the animal kingdom, but especially in the werewolves that were their distant ancestors, the smile was not to convey friendly expressions, but the baring of teeth. You did not threaten an Omega’s true mate without repercussions. Castiel did not open the folder to look inside but he pulled it towards him for later examination. He’d give it to his personal secretary Balthazar for safekeeping.

“If I find so much as hair on the head of him or any of his friends or family has been harmed, you may rest assured that you will regret it to your dying day.”

“All is well, Castiel,” Michael said. “I just wanted to discover what kind of man might be the father to the next in line to the throne. I am right that is your endgame here? You hope to conceive? You really should have looked much closer to home for the father of your first child. We could make admirable allies together against Mother. She may well be convinced to retire immediately from the Regency if you were to marry well.”

Revulsion roiled through Castiel, nausea at the thought of it. Oh, incest was a grand old tradition among the Princes and Princesses of Eden, as it was in most royal families, usually not so close as half siblings. Conserve the bloodlines and such and of course, the only suitable mate for a royal Omega was an Alpha from a royal bloodline. Castiel could think of about seven or eight first cousin pairings down his family tree. There were a couple of sibling pairs in there, and once, two hundred-ish years ago, the second Princess Consort Evander mated to his father Prince Oswald. 

But Michael’s odor was only barely tolerable to Castiel, even chokingly musky. They said that it was a sign of genetic compatibility, how you reacted to a scent. They were related not just as half siblings, but in a dozen different cousin connections, down various family lines even though they shared the same mother, but different fathers. Even should he be able to abide Michael personally, he would not have chosen to procreate with him. He could not possibly have healthy children with Michael or any of his cousins. It was more than time for an infusion of new genes.

“Absolutely that will never happen,” Castiel said, pleasantly. “I would die before I would consent to you impregnating me, much less mating me. Be sure to tell mother that she will not run her games around me in this way. I am the heir and you will never take the throne no matter how much she schemes for that.”

It was not that Michael was not in the royal succession in his own right, by all of those cousin relations, but he was, if Castiel remembered correctly, twenty-third in line to the throne. Should Castiel die without an heir, or if, as mother had intended, he would have been forced into the convent, many people stood between Michael and the throne. Gabriel, his twenty one year old Omega half-sibling and his father’s son by an Omega he hadn’t been mated to, was next in line. Technically a bastard but still next in line. Gabriel would be a lot less subject Naomi’s control than Naomi realized. Not because he would object to it per se, but because he was just that much more chaotic and wild. Or perhaps she did realize and that was why Castiel was not sitting at St. Misha’s now. She thought her chances of controlling him slightly better. At the outmost, he would have only three more years with her as Regent, assuming she did not find some way to have him declared incompetent, 

“I’m just saying that you should consider it,” Michael said. “You have few enough friends at court.”

“I am the friend of no one at court. I am the Crown Prince of Eden and I have subjects, not friends,” Castiel said. 

That was one of laws he would proclaim as soon as he could and a custom he was trying to change already, referring to Omegas as Princess. It was demeaning. Actually, he intended that any ruler of his principality would be the Prince, Alpha, Beta or Omega, male or female. It was ridiculous that he or any other ruler of Eden be referred to by a diminutive. The royal family’s decision to open the Angelthenium mine to public knowledge and use had put Eden on the map as one of the most powerful countries in the world, because of sheer economic power. The amount of Angelthenium under Eden could power the world for thousands of years, if not indefinitely.

“Ah, his royal highnesses’ little hobby horse of gender reform,” Michael said. “Perhaps we should enjoy our lunches while we may, Princess.”

From that point on, they spoke only pleasantries, just as they were appearing to, but Castiel was aware that Michael was now more of an enemy than he ever had been. Castiel speared one of the strawberries on his fruit plate, stabbing right through the red, vaguely heart shaped object.

Later, when their little lunch was done, Michael left, leaving his file folder at the table. Castiel was tempted to open it up, look through it and mine it for details about the Alpha he could never have, learn more about Dean. It wouldn’t be honorable, of course, like having spied on and stalked him. Plus he was sure that the facts down on paper, conveying dry details like mortgages and work histories, only told a very small part of the story about Dean Winchester. His nose had read the rest in fine detail, all he ever needed to know about Dean, as had Dean’s actions. Those things couldn’t hide in the facts of where he’d gone to school, who employed him, what property he owned. Dean was kind and sweet. He was more honorable and noble than any of the nobility that Castiel had ever met. He was gentle and intense as they’d coupled and more focused on Castiel’s pleasure than his own. You couldn’t hide those things. 

Balthazar was there a moment later to collect Castiel and propel him towards the next portion of their day. “You didn’t eat very much at lunch,” Balthazar said as they walked to the waiting car. “Did you want me to have a burger waiting after your speech?”

“No, no burgers, please, ever again,” Castiel said, thinking about how Dean had looked adoringly at him while he’d stuffed his face in that restaurant, like it made him happy just to see an Omega eat. Then Castiel’s stomach rumbled in resentment and emptiness. “Perhaps maybe one of those sandwiches we had the other day? With the jelly?”

“Ah, the PB and J, a very, very American dish. Of course, darling. I’ll have it ready for you. What’s this?” Balth asked, pointing to the file folder that Castiel still clutched.

“Michael investigated the Alpha I had my assignation with,” Castiel said, handing it over. “You’ll take care of it? Shred it or something? I’m certain Michael kept a copy for his own and I doubt there’s anything I can do to stop him from trying to take advantage of it if he decides, but at least we can stop my copy from being leaked. I would not want this Alpha drawn into scandal in any way.”

Balth took the folder with great care, tucking it under his arm and said, “Consider it taken care of. Don’t give it another moment of thought.”

***

It was late by the time Sammy woke him up, the winter sun dipping near to sunset already. Dean’s mouth was fuzzy, like something had died in it and his whole body ached, just like a real hangover from alcohol. 

“Hey, you let me sleep too late,” Dean said, shaking himself and trying to get up.

“Maybe you should stay in bed and get more rest. You don’t look so good,” Sammy said, shaking his head. “I tried to wake you up at one and two and two-thirty and at four and you were dead to the world.”

“I gotta get out of bed. I got a life to live,” Dean said. “I can’t just sleep it away, even though. Are the kids ready for tree shopping.”

“We ended up buying one already. I promised the kids we could decorate tonight though.”

“I’ll be down in a minute. I gotta shower I think,” Dean said, sniffing himself. The worst of the anosmia had faded and man, he kind of reeked. If he could smell himself, how bad it must be for Sammy and everyone else. He was probably somewhere between stank and pure stench.

“Yeah, you’re kind of foul,” Sammy said, nose wrinkling. “Don’t like, use the scent blocker soap though. It’s better if his scent on you just kind of fades away naturally. I learned that one the hard way.”

Sammy usually didn’t talk about it, one of about a million things they didn’t talk about, but sometimes Dean wondered just how close to mated Sam had been with his kids’ the sperm donor. Dean had always thought there was just the expectation of mating. Sam had been pretty bad off for a while when he’d come home unmated and pregnant, but Dean wondered if it was even worse than he’d thought. Had Sammy been come addicted and cold turkeyed his way out of it and out of the interrupted pair bonding? There hadn’t been any other Alphas since then and Sammy was being way, way kinder and nice to Dean than he had to be, as if he couldn’t help the empathy. 

It wasn’t long before Dean, feeling a little better or at least clean, was heading downstairs where his brother had cooked dinner and their kids were waiting. He grabbed one nibling in each arm and twirled them around, giving them a hair tousle as he sat them down, his heart warmed up a little by their happy cries of “Uncle Dean! Uncle Dean!”

Then they dragged him out to the porch where a tiny, tiny little bonsai of a Christmas tree waited for them, the one that Sammy had picked out.

“We wanted something bigger, but Om wouldn’t let us,” Bobby John said, mournfully. 

“But it’s better than nutthin’ right?” Added Johnny Bob. He was always the more optimistic of the pair.

So there was really nothing else for it, but to stomp back into the house and call into the kitchen, “Hey, Sammy, how long ‘til dinner?”

“Half an hour maybe more. It’s Winchester surprise, so it’s done when it’s done,” Sammy said, coming out, wiping his hands on a towel. The thing about Sammy’s Winchester surprise was that it really kind of was a surprise about ingredients, level of edibility and time to make. It was kind of a more appetizing name for a dish than “All the Leftovers from the Week Stirred Together and Baked with Cheese.” Most the time, it was pretty good, but you never knew. Dean and Sam did okay but never did so well they could afford to waste food unless it was really, really bad.

“I’m gonna take the kids and get a real tree for the living room. Maybe while we’re gone, you can figure out where we can put the Christmas twig you bought.”

It was just starting to snow as he and the kids set out for the Christmas tree lot that was about five blocks away, not hard, just a few sparkly flakes that drifted on the wind and looked pretty, not really sticking to anything. Scenic though. Just about right for the activity and the time of year. They all started out pretty enthused and running ahead of him. He just kept an eye out, figuring they were safe enough in the small town residential streets. By about block three, he had two kidlets clinging to his back in a sort of shared piggy back ride. The lot was in the parking lot of the Young Omegas Christian Athletic Association, run by them, organized by Garth every year, the biggest fundraiser they had. 

“Hey, Dean,” Garth said, all goofy smiles and drowning in his oversized coat. “I figured you’d be back to pick out another after I saw the tree Sam picked out. I set a few aside for you.”

It kept snowing and the kids kept running around the lot, pointing and saying, “That one!” And “No, that one!” Until finally, they found the perfect one, just about as tall as he would be able to shove into the living room and even after he cut off a few inches from the bottom, the top would just barely have room for their angel topper, the one that Mom had bought all those years ago. This one was freshly cut and it gave off a lovely pine fragrance, the needles soft and bendable still. It was full and without any bare spots. 

“It’s perfect!” They all agreed, so Dean paid Garth off and they bundled up the tree and somehow, he managed to drag it home. 

Later that night, the Winchester surprise had surprised them all by being pretty good this time. Sam was baking gingerbread cookies. They were just the kind that came from the store in a tube and you sliced and baked the, but the house smelled good. The tree had been crammed into its spot in the living room and was getting bedazzled with the ornaments that Sam had hauled down from the attic. The kid were singing along to carols on the radio, off tune and enthusiastic and sometimes with hilarious misheard lyrics, like ‘Deck the Halls with Bras of Holly”. 

At the end, when all the balls were hung and the garland was draped, there was a bit of a fight between the boys about whose turn it was to put the angel on top, so Sam put it to the side up on a high bookshelf, until maybe they could all figure it out civilly later. Dean thought maybe he just might put it away and go buy a star for the top or something. 

“Maybe it’s time to retire that old thing,” Dean said to Sam, later, after the kids had been taken up to bed and they were sitting looking at the tree, each with a small glass of whisky in their hands.

“Yeah, maybe. Get a Christmas star to wish on?” Sammy asked “You know, I got the smallest tree, because every year, no matter what I pick out, you go an get a bigger one.”

“I don’t.”

“You totally do. Well, good night. Thanks, Dean, for doing this with us.”

“I wouldn’t be any place else in the whole world.”

A little later, when Sam had gone upstairs, Dean took the angel topper off the shelf and tucked it back into the now empty ornament boxes, saying, “I guess we don’t need you after all, Angel.”

He wondered why he could thought that this life wasn’t enough for him and why thought he should have anything more. He’d always, forever, want Angel, but he couldn’t have him. He could have this and that was enough. He’d never try and mate. He’d be uncle and brother forever more. Then he hauled the empty boxes upstairs with him and went to bed.

***

Castiel felt not at all better the next day. If anything, the aching and nagging, constant need for Dean’s semen was worse. He’d never endured anything like this before. When he woke up to use the bathroom, he thought he could see Meg’s point about the bags under his eyes. His cheeks, he thought, looked a little more hollowed out than they had been. He had not rested well nor eaten well since he had left Dean’s cabin in the country. He could hardly get on with his daily schedule of public appearances, though he got through it somehow. It would be better when he got home and back to the lab, he told himself. He found the constant round of public appearances irritating at the best of time and hardly tolerable now.

He showered, but couldn’t bear to use actual soap. The smell of Dean did not seem to be fading from him, at least that he could smell. He couldn’t bear to cover it up or cause it to diminish in any way. All that he had read indicated letting the smell go away slowly on its own was as helpful as anything, despite song lyrics that advised you should ‘wash that man right out of your hair’ and similar. So, he used just the water. It was hot and plentiful. He wondered, if like Dean, the hotel used Grace Industries tankless heaters. 

When he was done showering, he put on his robe and wandered out into the living room of his suite, where Meg and Balthazar, his personal secretary, were going over his itinerary for the day and into fine detail about his clothing choices for the various events. He was glad they were usually the two people he saw first in the morning and counted them as the only two who were completely and only in his corner. They were Team Castiel, so to speak. 

Castiel didn’t listen and sought out the coffee set he knew would be waiting for him. Mostly, Meg put him in various suits and ties and to him, they were all much the same, though he preferred suits over any other type of clothing. However, Meg and Balth both had very strong and usually dissenting opinions about tie colors and symbolic meanings thereof, of the particular cut of the suits and what that was meant to convey and why the same suit might not be ideal to wear for a charity appearance versus a tour of a Grace Industries plant. In the end, he didn’t care that they spent so long debating an issue he personally cared so little about because ultimately, they wanted him to look his best and be his best, which he couldn’t be if he were worrying about how appropriate he looked. 

Finally, one topic jumped out at Castiel, something that truly caught his ear. 

Balth said, “We really should be putting him in a ball gown for the Safe Harbor Charity Ball. Nothing too colorful. The Midwest can be quite conservative when it comes to dress clothes for Omegas. It’s fine and well for him to wear an evening suit in other places, but here, it really should be a gown. You did pack a suitable gown, didn’t you Meg?”

“She did not,” Castiel said, after he took the last sip of his coffee. “Because I don’t own a ball gown.”

“Eh, you kind of do, Clarence,” Meg said. “Your mother keeps buying them and I keep sending them to deep storage.”

“Of course she does,” Castiel said, shaking his head. In some places, Omegas did still wear dresses, at least sometimes, but he had not seen any evidence of this so far in Kansas. Clothing on all genders was almost distressingly casual and blessedly unisex here. Omega Princes from not long ago wore dresses exclusively. Meg’s title was, after all, ‘Mistress of the Gowns.” However, Castiel had refused to wear them at all, even to high state occasions. 

“When we return home, maybe you could arrange some sort of sale of them for charity,” Castiel said, reaching for the briefing folder he knew would be waiting for him, a daily list of demands from his mother that he mostly ignored, but it was helpful to know what he was ignoring and why.

“Well, if there’s no gown and I’m utterly certain there’s no place within a thousand miles that would sell something suitable, then perhaps the colorful suit might be a good option. His usual grays and blacks read as very ‘Alpha Wannabe’, so to speak, in a festive, formal setting.”

“The green velvet maybe?” Meg asked. “Seasonal, festive. Makes his cute little ass look amazing.”

“Why am I going to this charity ball anyway?” Castiel asked, wanting to cut off any discussion regarding his ass. “What is this Safe Harbor?”

“I’m surprised you don’t remember,” Balthazar said. “It’s one of your various causes. Safe Harbor fights against Omega sex trafficking and runs a sanctuary for teenage Omegas escaping that. You specifically asked me to find such charities working in the various cities we’re visiting.”

“Our donation was generous enough to my standards?” 

Castiel knew that he was privileged beyond compare. So many Omegas in the world suffered from trafficking, forced into prostitution, even baby farming. They didn’t have the choices that he did. They didn’t get even to go to school in some places. He gave where he could in ways that he thought would alleviate at least some of the suffering in this world. 

“You would not be disappointed with it.” 

“Will I be expected to dance?”

As crown prince, at these sort of events, he was expected to dance with local Alphas, if there were any of suitably high status. Once Naomi stepped down or he proved he needed her regency no longer, as ruling Prince of Eden, he would not be expected to dance. He could not wait until that day. He had had dance lessons since he was very young, a mandatory part of the education of an Omega of his status in Eden. He knew the steps but he always felt awkward and stilted when he danced them. He had been told many times that the biggest part of his problem was that he would not ‘follow the lead’ from his Alpha dance partner. 

“It’s a Ball, Clarence. Of course there’s going to be dancing. That’s the whole point,” Meg said. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you dolled up so pretty. You’ll be the belle of the ball and you’ll have so many Alphas asking, you won’t have time to do any actual dancing.”

Then she and Balthazar shared a look and Balthazar said, “I suspect you will have much better time than you think at this event.”

“Fine. But not the green velvet. The gold brocade, you did pack that, didn’t you, Meg?”

“The one your mother hates so much?” She said, wrinkling her nose a little. She didn’t like it either.

“Yes, that one.”

“I packed it though I wish you would let me burn it.”

“I like it,” Balthazar said. “Yes, that will be perfect for the ball.”

***

Dean hurried home from the shop. Saturday hours sucked, but if he didn’t offer them, then people took their business elsewhere. He’d stayed until almost evening, trying to get this woman’s minivan up and on the road again. She was a single mom and her crappy Dodge was probably due to be replaced, but no doubt, she couldn’t afford that. If he didn’t fix it, she couldn’t go home with her kids to for Christmas. He knew her from their neighborhood and she was really scraping by. He spent hours on her car, charging her just for parts. 

He tried to avoid Sammy, who was skulking near the hallway like one of those gargoyle things. 

“You’re late, Dean,” he hissed. He was already dressed in a creamy white suit with a fancy double breasted vest. He looked pretty damn handsome in it, what with his hair brushed out and wavy like that. If they were’t brothers and Dean wasn’t hopelessly hung up on an Omega that could never be his, well, he might just ask Sammy to dance because he wanted to. He’d probably end up dancing a few times with him out of obligation tonight, but that was what was expected at one of these charity shindigs.

“And I’m going to be even later if we stand here in the hallway fighting about it,” Dean said, looking up the stairs longingly to where his shower was. He was dirty as hell from work, even though he’d scrubbed his hands pretty thoroughly. He wanted nothing more in this universe than hot water pounding down on his shoulders. Hell, he didn’t even want to go to this thing. “In and out of the shower, five minutes.”

Sam shoved a plastic covered black wool thing at him. Sam had made him rent a tuxedo like he was going to be in some kind of wedding. Thing was, Dean didn’t even own a suit of his own. Not much call for it in his day to day. If he was required to go to one of Sam’s charity wing dings, he rented, though Sam grumbled maybe he should just buy a suit. 

“Don’t forget your tux.”

“Do I have wear this thing?” Dean asked. “Nobody’s going to be looking at me. I’ll just wear the black jeans and a black shirt or something.”

“Yes, you have to wear it. You promised, Dean. Don’t embarrass me,” Sammy said. “So get this. A bunch of big wigs from somewhere just bought a bunch of tickets for this thing and they’re going to make a massive donation. Like huge. Big enough to open a second shelter big.”

“Okay. I get it. I need to make you look good. I’ll wear the penguin suit and try to not look like an idiot.”

So, he hurried upstairs, toting the tux. He shaved then showered, scrubbing himself quickly. He had to use soap on some of his body. With grease and grime from work, there was no choice, but he used the completely scent and blocker free stuff this time. He was out of the shower before long, toweling off, then encasing himself in the rented tux. He looped the bow tie around his neck and stood back to admire the effect in the mirror. It wasn’t bad. He cleaned up kind of good. 

Downstairs, Sam was giving last minute instructions to Charlie. “And no gummy bears this time, no matter what Bobby John said,” he said. 

“Like, not even if there’s a gummy bear emergency?” She asked, then lightly punched him on the arm. “Kidding. Go on, have a good time. I got this.”

“Okay if we take the Impala?” Sam asked. “I want to leave the van in case Charlie needs it for any reason. I don’t trust her car. It’s a little old.”

“Of course we’re taking Baby, what’re you talking about?” Dean said, opening the passenger door for his brother. He could definitely see Sam’s point about Charlie’s car. That car, a Gremlin, had been a piece of crap the day it drove off the assembly line in 1974. 

“It’s just I know gasoline is getting so expensive and you won’t do the conversion,” Sam said. 

“Nobody is ripping out Baby’s heart to put one of those little black boxes in her,” Dean said, petting the steering wheel as he got into the driver’s seat. He turned the key and she purred for him like she always did. He backed out of the drive way still talking,. “Nobody knows what’s inside those damn things and one country and one company have a total monopoly on them. How does it even work? How do you get all that power out of one tiny chunk of rock? There’s got to be something hinky going on with that.”

Dean hadn’t really been that bothered by Grace Engines before, but something about being loved and left by an owner of a huge chunk of it didn’t sit right with him. 

“Dean, I don’t know what your problem is,” Sammy said. “Look, I didn’t mean anything. Just calm down.”

“I’m fine, Sammy, just fine,” he said, though he was anything but fine. He’d put on his best charming face and meet and greet people for his brother. Maybe flirt with the ladies and even the Omegas. That’s why Sammy brought him along to these kind of fundraising things, because he could do that. 

They were at the ball not long after. They’d rented out this big fancy room in the University of Kansas student union. Sammy had work stuff for the event to do first before the actual guests started arriving. Dean got roped into moving chairs around because the event planner hadn’t like how the rental service had set them up. Generally though, the place had been fancied up like crazy. There were spray-painted silvery curled branches in big bunches on the tables, all laced through with those fancy little Christmas lights. White tablecloths on everything and the chairs were the delicate gold ones that Dean always feared breaking. There was some kind of filter thing on the lighting over the dance floor that gave a pretty good impression of it snowing, little glittery flakes drifting in the air. They had popped for a real orchestra too, setting up and tuning up now. 

Finally, it was time and things were getting started. People were arriving and the hall was filling up. The music was starting. Sam took him around and they did the charming duo thing on various donors, most of them long time donors, so they knew that they were brothers and not together. Dean hardly had time to grab even one drink or a few little nibbles from the trays that were being passed. 

***

“Am I going to be announced or not?” Castiel asked as they approached the University campus where it was to be held. In his experience, it was always awkward to be announced as a royal at one of these American charity events. The Americans, having kicked the last of their royals out over two hundred years ago, didn’t really know how to do it smoothly. These charity balls, American style, had a red carpet usually, but no announcing of the guests. 

“No, I suspect that this ball is rather less formal than even the usual sort of American affair. They call the dress code white tie, but it’s more like American style black tie. You didn’t notice I had Meg switch you out to black tie?” Balthazar said. “Still, the cause is extremely good, so I didn’t think you would let the lack of proper protocol deter you.”

“No, of course not. I read the packet you prepared on Safe Harbor. It’s a most worthy charity,” Castiel said. 

He was dressed, as he insisted, in the gold brocade jacket, with black pants and pristine white shirt and, as Balthazar pointed out, a black tie. He thought he looked quite festive and Mother wasn’t here to point out how unsuitable the jacket was, leading up to the copious other ways he had disappointed her over the years. Balthazar was dressed in well fitted but rather unremarkable black tie. Meg was in the vehicle as well, but she was coming along more as his attendant, to see to him if he needed to be freshened up at any point in the evening. She would hover in the back ground with makeup kit and hairbrush.

Castiel played his part as well as he could. He walked their little red carpet and got his picture taken by local press. Thankfully, the full squadron of journalists that followed him around had not seemed to catch on to this little side trip, so there was little attention paid as he walked into a sparkling winter wonderland of a party. Balthazar was his escort, of a sort, taking him around to all the appropriate people, the other large donors, the board members of the organization, the mayor of the town, the University President. Balthazar was skilled in subtly giving hints to the people they met about how to address Castiel, because otherwise, Americans tended to get all flustered about it and didn’t know if they should try and shake his hand or bow at him. He got ‘Your Majestie’d’ a lot and ‘Your Honor’ and the like. 

Castiel said all the right words at the right times, the generalizations about the importance of giving back, the duty to take care of the less fortunate, especially of Omegas who were particularly vulnerable. All of these words came to lips after long practice of hundreds of these kinds of events over his lifetime. He hardly needed to think them consciously. Everything was going smoothly, just another day at work for him, so to speak, when suddenly, he thought he might die. 

Balthazar was making the introduction, “This is Samuel Winchester, the volunteer coordinator and Shelter Manager. And this is is brother, Dean Winchester.”

Then, Castiel was face to face with Dean, the Alpha he never thought he would see again. He was even more handsome than Castiel remembered. This was the one that he thought he could never have. The one his inner Omega was whining for and the whining suddenly rose to an out and out tantrum at being denied. This was his mate. This was the one. This was the one that had what he needed, at all levels, physical, mental. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about the feel of Dean’s cock in his mouth, how it had jerked as Dean had come and how the semen had tasted and how he craved it. But he also couldn’t help but remembering how safe and cared for Dean had made him feel when he’d broken down and and wept in the man’s arms. How tended to he’d felt when Dean had given him his own burger, without hesitation or complaint. He couldn’t forget the sheet ecstasy he had felt when they’d made love and tied up together. He needed that again.

It was impossible, untenable, that he not have this man in his life. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. But he could also see the anger, the betrayal gathering in Dean’s eyes. He had to explain why it couldn’t ever be more than it had been.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, then he turned to Balthazar and said, “I need to talk with Dean privately. Make it happen.”

So Balthazar turned to Dean and asked, “So, I understand you are the owner of at least thirty acres in fee simple or freehold, along with being a local business owner?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess so,” Dean said, looking confused. “If you count Bobby’s old junkyard and the house on Main, just over thirty.”

“Never married or mated?”

“No, never.”

Balthazar said, a significant look in his eyes, “Your Highness, this Alpha is eligible under the protocol. If he asks you to dance, you need have no hesitation about accepting.”

Castiel understood what Balthazar meant, but Dean would have no idea. Probably Michael hadn’t even put it together, given the obscurity of the law. Castiel willed Dean to ask him. Wished it with all his heart. Thought that he would give up every other Christmas gift ever, just to get Dean to ask. 

Dean and Castiel stared at each other several long seconds, until Samuel, the brother, gave Dean a subtle kick to the leg and whispered, “Dean, ask him to dance. This is the big donor I told you about.”

***

Dean wrestled with himself. Angel was here, in front of him, in person, looking even more beautiful than before if that was possible. Even more than that, Angel smelled divine, like everything Dean had ever wanted, like ten Christmases rolled up into one, like home. Like mate. Dean could have dealt with never getting that scent again, but not with getting it in his nose again, not like this. It was rubbing in his face what he could never have and what could never be.

“So, do I bow to you or somethin’, Princess?” Dean snapped. Sammy gave him another, not exactly subtle, kick to the foot. Dean was aware that he wasn’t exactly making Sammy look good here but he couldn’t help himself, not when he’d been ambushed like this.

“His Highness prefers to be known as Crown Prince Castiel,” the irritating official dude that had been going around with Angel said. “And as you are not His Highnesses’ subject, a bow is not required.” 

But then Dean looked away from the attendant person and directly into Angel’s yearning, deep blue eyes and how they seemed bright with tears. He knew that he could deny his mate nothing, not even if the mating would never be acknowledged. Besides, maybe somehow, he had some explanation for why it was okay to steal Dean’s heart like that and then disappear in the middle of the night.

“I would ask you to dance, Your Highness,” he said. “But I don’t know how. I don’t dance.”

“I know you must not trust me, Dean,” Angel said. “But if you follow my lead, I know the dance.”

Dean decided he had to take a chance. He’d never see Angel again after this moment. Angel would go off to his world, full of power and glittery lights and riches, leaving Dean behind. Maybe he could something, he didn’t know what. An explanation wasn’t needed. Dean understood. He wasn’t anything near Angel’s level. But something. Some reassurance maybe that it was their circumstances and not him in particular that Angel objected to.

“Then, would you like to Dance, Highness?”

“I would be delighted to, Mr. Winchester.”

The orchestra had just ended a song and then, after a brief pause, the strings started up again, swelling in round tones, a few notes that Dean recognized immediately. That old Elvis song. The dance orchestra’s vocalist, a woman with a deep and smoky voice, stood up to the microphone and crooned, “Wise men say, only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you.” 

Prince Castiel, his Angel, held up his hand so Dean moved to take it, stepping closer into the cloud of intoxicating scent, knowing he was a fool, knowing that this was just going to make it hurt worse in the end. Angel’s hand came up from behind and rested just above the small of Dean’s back and suddenly they were moving to the music, Angel subtly steering him somehow into the cluster of people on the dance floor and he couldn’t help but go with him.

“This is a waltz,” Angel said. “Smooth steps. Like that. Yes. You’re getting it.”

They concentrated on moving together, Dean trying to match his steps to Angel’s, to the music. The music filled the space, lovely and heart breaking. If only this moment could never end, it would be perfect, him and Angel moving together to beautiful music. He thought about their time together on the porch, how despite everything, it hadn’t seemed like just sex, it had seemed like making love. 

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Angel said. “I knew that I risked my own peace of mind and heart when I went out that night. I never thought about the heart and peace of mind of the Alpha I would meet. I never meant to hurt you but I was selfish. I thought only of my own wants and needs.”

“I wasn’t exactly chivalrous either,” Dean said, thinking of how he’d known it wasn’t a good idea to do the things he’d done with Angel, how he’d thrown caution to the wind. “Was it all just about getting your condition taken care of? You know, I’d thought, maybe you’d felt something too, but then you were just gone when I woke up. Just a note, no explanation.”

“I am constrained by the obligations of my birth,” Angel said. “I am not able to act freely like I would like. I think that was the reason behind my actions. I could have found any number of options to take care of my, as you say, condition. What I wanted was a night of freedom. I found it in your arms but I had to return to my prison.”

“Ought to call you Cinderella, not Angel.”

“I don’t understand that reference.”

“The fairy story. Princess had to run away at midnight before her coach turned into a pumpkin again,” Dean explained, patiently. Maybe the fairy tales that were told in Eden were different. 

“Ah, yes. That story,” Angel said. “You left no glass slipper though.”

“You were the one that ran away at midnight.”

“Yes, I suppose so, however. It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry, Dean. I thought I had duties that were more important than what I wanted. Only, Dean, Balthazar is right. You are an eligible, Alpha bachelor. We’ve had a proper introduction at a public social occasion, including this dance. You might court me if you wanted. The Crown Prince of Eden need not mate to nobility. It is customary, yes. Now that I’ve despoiled myself, mother will expect me to mate soon, ideally with one of my own cousins.”

“Ugh.”

“Exactly,” Angel said. “The pool of nobility that Mother would consider suitable for me is laughably small and all closely related to me, but she will not be ruler for much longer. It’s long custom that my mate would be a noble from Eden, but the law states only that my mate must be an Alpha, unmated, either a bachelor or widower, and freeholder of a certain amount of land, with an income of his own. People assume that the land must be within the borders of Eden, but that’s not what the law says.”

“How am I supposed to court you?” Dean asked. “You, like, own billions. You’re a damn Prince or whatever. Couldn’t you have my head cut off or something, just by giving the order.”

“No, I couldn’t, Dean. You are not one of my subjects, and even if you were, our great charter of Haven established a separate judiciary and strictly prohibits me from chopping off the head of any of my subjects or even from throwing them into one of my dungeons.”

“Your mother is, like the queen though, right? She could have my head cut off daring to touch you.”

“As a Principality, Eden has no queens or kings. Only Crown Princes. Mother was the wife of my father, Prince Charles. She does not sit in power of her own right, but was appointed regent when my father passed away when I was only ten. I am the Crown Prince and when I reach the age of twenty-eight or have my first child, whichever comes first, her regency will come to an end.”

“Is that why you wanted to go unprotected?”

“I could think of no finer a father for my children than you,” Angel said. “No one kinder, no one more caring. I stand by what I said. It is in your scent. It infuses every bit of your nature. Please, Dean. Come be my Prince Consort. There’s no barrier to our mating.”

***

Castiel had stated his case but he had not convinced his Alpha. The hurt and anger in his eyes had not gone away. He was no more convinced that he could have Castiel for mate than he had been at the beginning of their dance. It didn’t seem like it was pride- some Alphas didn’t want an Omega that was in any way above them, but it didn’t seem like that would be the issue with Dean. This was something different. It was like he was convinced that he was not and never would be worthy. If only Castiel could make him see the truth.

“So, what, I’m supposed to move to Eden with you? Drop everything and be your Consort?”

Castiel couldn’t help but not even though he really didn’t want to hear any more. 

“I’m just supposed drop everything here? Head off to your fairytale kingdom and be your mate. Father your kids. You talk about your obligations but I don’t see why your obligations are any more important than mine. I’m Dad, pretty much, to Sammy’s kids. I got a bunch of people counting on my business to give them a job and a whole bunch more people who count on me to keep their cars on the road when they might not be able to afford it otherwise. Maybe my life is pretty small compared to yours, but I can’t leave abandon it to become a tiny part of yours.”

Then Dean dropped Castiel’s hand and walked off the dance floor, leaving him heartbroken, about ready to crumble. Devastated. Only his lifelong training in keeping up appearances kept him stoic in the face of this rejection. He watched as Dean left the Ball. Dean was the one walking away this time. Castiel stood alone and thankfully, no one around him seemed to notice. These people hardly seemed to know who he was and that was a relief. Then suddenly, both Balthazar and Meg were at his side, prompting him away from the bustle of the dance floor and the Ballroom. 

“I think His Highness should go powder his nose,” Meg said. 

“I think his obligatory appearance here has been long enough,” Balthazar added, gently. “Perhaps we should get you back to the hotel, Highness. You’re due in Omaha in the morning.”

“Duty calls,” Castiel said. In one instant, his world had crumpled until all that was left was that duty. He had best attend to. He held his head high and plastered a smile on his face as he left the Ball, no Cinderella, no Price Charming, just a broken hearted man whose Omega didn’t understand why his mate had been near and now was gone. Soon, they were back on the highway, headed to Kansas City and his hotel. He stared out the window at the flat land they drove through, so unlike the mountains of Eden. It was dark out there, a long race to the horizon filled with the glittering lights of Kansas City. He felt dead, like the part of him that was him had died and desiccated. 

“I suppose you had better place a call to Michael and determine when best to announce our engagement,” he said, flatly. It was what was expected of him. “I’ll start the doses of the mating antagonist in the morning.”

“No, Highness,” Balthazar said. “I will not place that call.”

“Pardon?”

Castiel was shocked. No one told him no, not except Mother. Oh, like Balthazar, they might steer him in what he asked of them. They might say yes in a way that ultimately led to no. No one in his immediate circle or the Eden nobles had said no to him since he was a child, a true child, not the complicated legal childhood visited on him by having a regent over him. 

“I can’t stop you from throwing your life away on your half brother if you insist, but I will not facilitate it. You have not lost your mate yet,” Balthazar said. “Are you going to give up so easily? You’ve found your true mate. Do you know how many people never do?”

“Oh, Balth, I never knew you were such a romantic,” Meg said. She was reaching into her tote bag and pulled out a sealed plastic bag. Makeup wipes. She said, “C’mere, Clarence. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She wiped down his face, almost tenderly, delicately, cleaning him of the heavy makeup she’d had him put in earlier. When the first wipe was full of beige color, she took the next one and went back to work. “You know, so what, your mate doesn’t want want to be prince consort and move to Eden and make the next generation of princes? You know, you don’t even like being Prince.”

“It’s my duty.”

“Fuck duty. It’s done nothing but make you miserable your whole life,” she said, looking his face over for stray bits of makeup. “You hate being Prince and it’s not like there isn’t a whole pack of siblings and cousins who’d be just as good, if not better than you at standing around looking pretty and being ceremonial. I saw you. This isn’t just mating crap. You love him and the prince biz is getting in the way, so just quit.”

“You don’t quit being the Crown Prince of Eden, Meg.”

“The word you’re looking for is abdication, Highness,” Balthazar said. “It’s been a century since a Prince has, but you would be far from the first to abdicate. Many people thought your father abdicated in all but name and that your mother has been the ruler since she married your father.”

Castiel remembered his father Charles as a vague and petty man, given to snits and even tantrums. Staff, especially, Castiel’s nannies, were given to just disappearing in the night, fired. You might say what you liked about his mother, but Eden had not just survived, but thrived under her rule. His father had spent most of his time writing unbelievable novels that were published under a pseudonym and only because he was a prince with connections. Castiel had read them once, trying to make a posthumous connection with his late father and found them all but unreadable. 

“But my happiness is of little consequence. Eden isn’t important just to me, but the whole world. Without Grace Industries,” he said, not able to finish, thinking about all the ills that the world might fall prey to without the nearly limitless power provided by the Grace engines, the pollution, the warming temperatures, the rising seas. 

“Are they one in the same though?” Meg asked. She’d finished with his face, tucked her wipes away into her tote. She ruffled her fingers through his hair and he could feel it muss out of the careful coif that it had been put into earlier. “Grace Industries is your cause. That’s what you serve. That’s why you get up in the morning. That’s what orders your life. The Prince gig is just this annoying thing you have to do part time. And you know, like ninety-percent of Grace Industries is out here in Kansas now. It’s almost like you know you’d find your mate here.”

Well, perhaps it was just fate. Kansas and the American Midwest did have rather a lot of flat, level space, needed for the factories. 

“Maybe it’s time you take a leap of faith,” Meg said. “It’s Christmas, and if you can’t do it then, when can you?”

“And you don’t care that you would lose your position?” He asked. Her place at court and her career was strictly only through him. 

“I’m sure you can find something better for me to do than look after your clothing,” she said. “Being the keeper of your dresses isn’t exactly the kind of perk you think it is.”

Meanwhile, Balthazar was already on his phone, dialing someone. “Yes, Fergus, lovely to speak with you again. Could you hold for his highness? Yes, he would like to discuss how possible it would be to split off Grace Industries from the Crown Properties.”

Then Balthazar put the phone, and perhaps, his whole future into his hands.

***

Dean stared out into the black, cloudy night. The snow was still drifting down, light flakes just blowing mostly. The moon peeked out every now and then between the breaking clouds, illuminating the snow covered grass of one twentieth of an acre of his little freehold. He was shaking with the cold a little inside his layers and jacket but he was too stubborn to go back inside from his perch on the roof. It was his favorite thing about the house on main, really. He could climb out from the window and onto the roof. Stare out at the stars at night if there were any to be seen. 

No stars tonight, but up and down the block, Christmas tree lights glimmered and shone, little bright candles against the long darkness of winter. He got the best view of it up here on the roof. All his neighbors really got into the holiday spirit, decorating their rooflines and trees with lights. Becky and Mark down the street really got into it, with a whole Manger scene complete with animatronic camels and sheep and Mary and Joseph, then, to balance thing with some secularism, Santa and his reindeer were shaped with lights on the rooftop. This was his neighborhood. Middle class. Hard working people like him. This was where he belonged. Where he’d formed a family with his brother. 

He couldn’t just throw it all away because God or fate or destiny or whatever crap had decided his body was the one unique match for a man that lived all the way on the other side of the world. So what if he had a fancy hat made out of gold with a chunk of pure Angelthenium that glowed a blinding blue according to Wikipedia. Not that he’d looked up anything about Eden or anything. Eden was in the news, so he’d accidentally clicked on link from a news article. People like Dean didn’t mate with princes. Anyway, he’d be fine. 

Dean turned at the noise of someone raising up his bedroom window. It was Sam, who climbed out onto the roof and pulled a blanket out after him. He wrapped the scratchy wool blanket around Dean’s shoulders, then shoved an insulated mug into Dean’s hands. Dean sipped. It was hot chocolate. He sipped again. Correction. It was hot chocolate with a little kick to it. Well, he needed a little kick after his night.

“Hey, I don’t know what happened tonight,” Sam said. “I swear I didn’t mean to get you set up for that dance. I was downwind and I couldn’t smell him when I told you to ask him to dance. I didn’t know he was your One until you two walked away to the dance floor.”

“Doesn’t matter that he’s my One,” Dean said. “My life is here with you and the kids. Love’s not strong enough to cross oceans.”

“That’s bullshit, Dean,” Sam said. “You’re in love with him and he’s your One. I know when I came back from California, I really needed you. I was sick and pregnant, and then I couldn’t work when the twins were so little. We needed you. But I’m grown up now and I’m not sick anymore. I’m earning enough to support us now. I guess with this big donation, I’m getting a promotion. I’m going to be shelters director.”

“They didn’t take it back after I walked out on their Crown Prince?”

“No, that’s the weird thing. I guess about an hour later, the money was already in Safe Harbors’ accounts, triple the original donation. They’re talking about opening shelters in Kansas City, Topeka and maybe Wichita. Anyway, what I’m saying is, I’ve got this. You can go with your One. I’m not having you throw your happiness away. I never meant for you to give your life up like you did. You should have a mate and kids of your own. I want that for you.”

“So what, I’m just supposed, get on a plane and leave my whole life behind. Leave you and the kids behind.”

“There’s phones and skype and getting back on the plane and coming back for visits. You won’t leave us behind. And if you’re going to go live in a palace, you’d damn well better invite us for summer vacation. Sometimes, you’ve got to take a leap of faith, Dean. If you can’t do that at Christmas, when can you?”

“I don’t know. You know, even if it could happen, True Mates. It’s not always such a good thing. Dad always said Mom was his one and look at how he went off his rocker when she died.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. They were silent for a moment, thinking of their childhood. Thank God for Bobby, the only bit of stability they’d ever had. “But Bobby always said Karen was his one and he lost her. Maybe Dad just would have gone off no matter what.”

“Well, it’s not happening, whether he’s my One or not. This is home and you’re just going to have to put up with me. I don’t know how to get ahold of him. He’s probably jetting back to Eden. He’ll take those experimental mating antagonists and he’ll forget all about me. Just an ill advised night with a local.”

“Let’s go in,” Sam said. “You’ll freeze your ass off if you stay out here much longer. Want to help me wrap?”

Not really, but if the kids were going to get a heap of toys under the tree, some wrapping had to be involved. Both of them tended to go a little crazy in the toy department, making up for the childhood they never had or that got lost on the way. It wasn’t that they were never given toys, but somehow, there was just never room for them during their nomadic existence. They’d get to the next destination to find that John Winchester had just somehow ‘forgotten’ to put the duffel with their toys in the trunk. Dean didn’t mind for himself so much but he always thought Sammy should have had it better than that. 

“Yeah, why not?” Dean said. “Santa went shopping and left some stuff in my closet that needs to be wrapped.”

They climbed back in through his window. Sam did that bitch thing he did when he thought Dean was spoiling the boys, but he didn’t say anything as he helped Dean haul all the loot out of the closet and downstairs. They worked with colorful paper and tape and those little stick on bows and soon, the tree in the living room was starting to look like it was Christmas for real, with the piles of packages growing bigger and bigger, looking more and more festive. 

“You know, I do mean it. You really should have a mate of your own,” Sam said when they were taping the last of the paper around the boxes. “You shouldn’t have to be attached to me at the hip your whole life. And, don’t take this the wrong way, but you smell just good enough to me that maybe one long lonely night we look at each other and it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. I don’t think either of us wants that.”

A sobering thought that he might somehow, someday start to see Sam as not completely off limits. It wasn’t unheard of, two brothers taking up together. He thought about Cas. The news kept trying to link Cas romantically to his half brother Michael. He’s seen a picture of this Michael on the TV and hated his smarmy, smoothly handsome face the instant he saw it. He hoped whatever Cas did with his life, whatever appropriate cousin or noble he ended up mating, it wasn’t this Michael, his half brother. 

“Maybe I should sell Bobby’s cabin, buy a place of my own in town,” Dean said. He was almost through the hot chocolate Sam had brought him earlier. He topped it up with a finger or two of whisky. Not too much. Just maybe enough that it might help him sleep. They started clearing up the wrapping mess, sweeping up scraps of paper, hiding any trace that it was they who where Santa’s little elves and that Santa’s workshop was the kitchen table.

“Hard to believe it’s Christmas Eve already tomorrow already,” Sam said. Then he looked up at the clock. “Correction. Hard to believe it’s Christmas Eve.”

They stuck the last gift under the tree and it was only then that Dean thought to look up at the top. There was a new topper. It was a rayed star, gold metal, with lots of sparkly crystal bits attached to it. It rotated slowly and in the center, it glowed, setting the crystals on fire. “What’s with the tree topper?” Dean asked. “Is that powered by that Angelthenium crap?”

“It’s just like a tiny flake of it set into glass. You said get a star,” Sam said. “It was the last one they had. Stores are sold out of a lot of stuff already. You can plug the rest of the lights in and it powers them for free.”

Dean shrugged. He was going to have to get used to a world where that crap was everywhere. It wasn’t going away so he’d better get used to it.

“Merry Christmas, Sammy,” Dean said. “I’m heading up to bed.”

***  
The tour had meant to go on for another two weeks, into the new year, but Castiel rather thought this was the sort of conversation you had in person. The personal secretaries had shuffled things around among themselves and rescheduled appearances. It meant that his appearances in Omaha were covered by his cousin Samandriel, the Earl of Welkin, who was rather prettier than Castiel and always amenable to giving a speech to a crowd, so long as he didn’t have to prepare it. 

As for Castiel, he’d boarded a plane and headed home to Eden and the palace. Naomi had agreed to the meeting without protest, which no doubt that she meant to highjack it to her own agenda. Back home at Elysian Palace, Castiel walked the echoing, grand hallways, his foot steps loud on marble floors. The palace was beautiful, but icy cold. This building was among the many, many things he was going to give up, but he didn’t think he’d miss it. It wasn’t a home, had never been a home to him. He couldn’t help but think about the tiny little log cabin that Dean had brought him to, with the field stone fireplace and warm colored wood paneled walls, opposite of the palace in about any way that Castiel could think of, other than the hot water heaters. The little cabin had felt more instantly home to him for that brief night than this palace or the other half dozen palaces the crown owned ever did.

They’d always used Angelthenium for lighting in the palace, flakes of it embedded in faceted glass. It spread the cold, white blue light into every corner. Such a waste of it, using it the old way, but once you made an Angelthenium light like that, it would glow forever. The chandelier in the Great Reception Hall was six hundred years old and had not needed a replacement bulb yet, it was said. 

Castiel made his way to the morning room where he would meet with Naomi and later be joined by Gabriel. It would be a pleasant little room, he thought, if it had been light with warmer light, not the cold light of the Angelthenium bulbs. Naomi sat upright at her desk and did not rise to greet him, perhaps the only one in the whole palace who wouldn’t, so instead of waiting for her to rise to greet him, he just took a seat near her. 

“What is this I hear about your plan to split Grace Industries from the crown?” She demanded, cold anger in her voice. “And ending your tour early? I despair of you, Castiel.”

She had no more been a loving, warm mother to him than this lonely, echoing palace had been a home. She had always been abstentious of her affections, even frugal with kind words and praise. She had, however, always done her best for Eden, Castiel recognized. She did not unjustly enrich herself by it as she could have, she was not a power monger. She valued tradition and propriety over kindness and love. Even now, she gave little outward signs of anger, but sat up ramrod straight at her desk, dressed in a tailored black pantsuit even early in the morning as it was. He thought that he had not seen her in anything but a black pantsuit that he could remember, even at her elevation to the regency and his own coronation, those many years ago.

“I have a proposal for you. I no longer wish to be Crown Prince and you obviously have no wish for me to be either.”

“How can you say that? After all I have done to preserve your rule and act in your best interests.”

“And nearly forcing me into St. Misha’s when I have no wish to go is in my best interest?”

“Nearly twenty-five and still a virgin? I thought your calling must be to celibacy and I needed to act to preserve the lineage. Reports do indicate that this is no longer at issue.”

“No, it is not. However, I do believe I am called to life’s work other than as the head of a hegemony sitting on top of the most abundant source of power in the world. I wish to abdicate my position as Crown Prince. I’ve spoken with my brother Gabriel. He’s willing to take on the role so long as it is merely symbolic and does not cut into his fun, as he puts it. He’s willing to be figure head and public face but he does not wish to rule. You would remain Regent for a minimum of seven years, perhaps longer. The end of regency is customary at twenty eight but Gabriel would not contest it if you moved to extend it.”

“And what would you receive, in exchange? I assume you would not be content to stumble off into the night with nothing.”

“Well, there is wealth rather in excess of any individual’s needs that is my own personal property, not crown property. That would remain mine. I would also want the position of CEO of Grace Industries and majority ownership, along with majority ownership in the mine.”

“You might have Grace Industries. I never wanted it to be formed in the first place. I never imagined anything at all might come of your pet project, but you will not have the mine. You squander the Angelthenium.”

Castiel smiled, knowing she had been outflanked already on this one. “On the contrary, I already have my majority share. This morning, Gabriel and I signed the papers. He is now owner of Arcadia House and its estates. I am now the owner of the twelve percent of the mine that he owned. Both of these are our personal property and this sale not subject to approval from the Crown.”

“Sale of shares of the mine is always subject to approval by the Crown.”

“When sold to a non family member, but shares are bought and sold among family members all the time with no oversight,” Castiel said, which was true, though usually in quarter percentage points of ownership, not a full twelve percent. Besides, Gabriel was getting more than a fair bargain, considering Arcadia House came with full mineral rights and there was a minor seam of Angelthenium right under the foundation of its folly. You would have to knock down the three hundred year old fake Roman ruin to get at powerful mineral, but it was worth far more than the beautiful old house and the rest of the grounds.

“I’m sure I can convince the Cabinet that the sale of such a large share should be subject to Crown approval regardless.”

“The mine is worth not nearly as much without the international patents on the Grace engines, which, as you might remember, are owned by me, as my personal property.”

“You did not invent that technology, Castiel,” she said. 

“Without me, they would be scribblings on the margins of my father’s handwritten novel manuscripts,” Castiel said. Yes, the crucial understandings that allowed Angelthenium to power engines cheaply and indefinitely, had been distractions from what his father Charles saw as his true work- tawdry stories about a pair of monster hunters. It had taken Castiel’s education in math and engineering to translate those scribblings into reality. Without Castiel, the Angelthenium might be used to create the light bulbs that filled the palace with harsh blue white light. It was little more than novelty. Some people also liked to use small pieces as jewelry too. 

“The mine and the engines go hand in hand, Mother,” he said. “One would be of little use without the other. Let us not fight about this. If you allow yourself, you would achieve everyone of your goals except wedding me to Michael.”

“He is a highly eligible match for you,” she said.

“Except for the part where he reeks to me, you mean,” Castiel said. “In any case, I found my one. I will not mate except with him.”

“The mechanic in America?”

Her voice was disdainful, sharp. You could come up with no opprobrium more severe than the way she had said ‘mechanic’. 

“Yes, the mechanic, who is the kindest, most wonderful man I’ve ever met. Who I must go to if I have any hope with him.”

“Very well, Castiel,” she said. “You are my son and though you think otherwise, I have always tried to act in your best interest. I would not force you into a mating and I would not force you into a role you find no happiness in. You will still do your duty by your family and country, just in your role as CEO. I assume you plan to announce everything during the Christmas address to the country?”

He had won, he thought. This was her concession, such as he would get.

“Don’t worry, Mother,” he said. “The family coffers will continue to fill at much the same rate. Yes, I thought the Christmas address to the nation would be a good time. There is one more thing. The main business offices of Grace Industries will be relocating, as will I.”

***

Dean was watching television late Christmas afternoon up in his bedroom. Dean was flipping channels as he’d gotten bored with football, having watched his fill of it in the afternoon. The downstairs was still a wreck, filled up with torn apart wrapping paper and toy packaging. Sam and the boys were watching cheesy Christmas movies downstairs in the family room among all the post unwrapping wreckage. His belly was full of Christmas dinner and he had a comfortable finger or two of whisky in his belly but he hadn’t been drinking, not really. 

He paused a moment on some terrible Hallmark Christmas movie, titled “A Town Called Santa Clause.” The Omega thought he’d been betrayed when it turned out the Alpha he was falling in love with had only come to town to open a Christmas All Year Round Megamart that would shut down the downtown full of little ornament, gingerbread and card shops. Dean snorted after he realized the bullshit that he was watching, so he clicked to the next channel and found cable news. He paused a moment to listen to the weather report, announcing where it the country it was a white Christmas this year. 

Then, it switched over to a regular news announcer. “Breaking news. Omega Crown Princess Castiel of Eden has just abdicated his crown. Announced during the yearly royal Christmas address to the people of Eden, this is certainly a bombshell both for his subjects, the citizens of Eden, but also the whole world. The twenty-five year old Princess has announced that he will instead take up the role of CEO and chair of the board of Grace Industries.”

Dean clicked the channel back to the crappy Hallmark movie instead. Anything other than hearing about the mate he couldn’t have. Dean dug under the bed for his flask. He came up with a discarded skin mag, which he tossed even deeper under the bed, knowing all Omegas but one had been ruined for him now and forever. He didn’t find his flask either, but he didn’t want to descend again into the chaos downstairs to find more booze. Instead, he just watched his crappy Hallmark movie and hoped for a better year soon. 

***

The winter passed, as they always, eventually, did, no matter how long you thought it would go on for. Dean finished up his certification for the Grace Engines, not that he wanted to, but just about all new cars had them and cars that didn’t were leaving the roads. Cars like Baby, that ran on dead dinosaurs, were starting to be dinosaurs themselves. If he couldn’t repair cars with Grace Engines, he’d have to shut down. 

It was funny how they talked about working on Grace engines. You didn’t actually work on the engine itself. It was still just a black box that put out power. The power train itself had a some really fiddly bits and complicated computer controller but most of the rest of the car was just a car with the same kind of bits that broke and wore out like any other car. 

It was finally a day warm enough that he could work with the garage bay door open. Business was pretty much dead that day, for once, so he’d sent most of his guys home, just left Danny on the register up front, in case anyone did come. He had Baby up on the lift, just giving her some preventative maintenance. Giving her some love. He didn’t drive her enough these days. The dead dinosaurs under the ground were running out and gas was up to nearly twenty dollars a gallon, which Baby drank like drunk on a bender. He gave a quick and derisive glance out to his daily driver on the lot. He couldn’t bear to drive some shitty modern car, so he’d taken a crapped out Trans Am Firebird, 1974 model complete with the Firebird decal on the hood, hardly anything original, and he’d done a conversion kit on it. The power output was anemic compared to the original motor, but he could drive cheaply on Grace, but not be caught dead in some all electric shoebox.

It had been kind of expensive to fix up the Firebird, but he’d had a little extra cash. He’d sold Bobby’s cabin and had enough money to buy himself a nice little house in town, on Main, a block and a half from Sam’s house, with some leftover, to fund the new car and maybe save a little for his future. He thought it was a shame the cabin was probably going to get torn down for a Grace Industries building, but some LLC with Grace in the name had been the one to buy the property. He tried to forget about, to not regret that he’d sold Bobby’s place. Sam had wanted to buy the house on Main, get his own mortgage on it. Dean wouldn’t hear of it. He’d provide for his brother and kids, even if he wasn’t going to live with them anymore.

Someone drove into the lot in a new black car. A Grace Aileron, his mind supplied automatically. It was the minivan model. Same thing he’d gotten Sam, though this was a newer, higher end model. Point was, it was a total Mom car. The minivan pulled up close to the open bay. The windows of the vehicle were dark enough that he couldn’t see inside, but as soon as driver’s side door opened, Dean was assaulted with an unforgettable scent. It hurt like blazes, just getting a whiff of it. He might have convinced himself he was over that scent, that he’d put it behind him. He hadn’t. The longing was still there, even deeper. Its claws had sunk in over time. 

Then the man himself, his One, his Omega, walked into the open bay. He was wearing a black suit, trench coat over it, wearing a tie, but the tie was kind of twisted up and backwards. His hair was a mess, rumpled and almost curled. He was no longer dolled up, but he was still beautiful. 

“Hello, I’ve heard you’re certified to work on Grace Engines at this shop,” he said, as if he were some kind of stranger, as if he hadn’t been in the most intimate of positions with Dean already.

“That’s right,” Dean said. Two could play the game that he was playing. “You got a problem with your Aileron?”

“No, no problem,” he said. “I moved recently to Lawrence, well, just outside of Lawrence, and I was hoping to find a good automobile mechanic. Perhaps I should introduce myself. I’m Castiel Shurley. I work for Grace Industries. Moving to town with the Corporate headquarters.”

Grace Industries had just broken ground on another big building south of town, an office building going up in what had been a cornfield just last year. Lawrence was going to get bigger, maybe become just another suburb of Kansas City, but the job influx would be good for the town.

“You know, you look awfully a lot like that Princess from Eden.”

“So I’ve been told, but I am very definitely not a Princess and never have been.”

They stared at each other and it took every bit of will power Dean had not to move closer. His inner Alpha was telling him to take the Omega, to fold him in his arms, kiss him first, of course, but then claim him, to let the Omega know where he belonged, for now and ever more. He kept a tight grip on it. He didn’t let himself move closer. Still, he couldn’t help what he said next, couldn’t keep the longing out of his voice, but also the hurt that he’d been alone all these months, without his mate, his counterpart.

“Gave it all up, Angel? Gave it all up for me?”

“I think it fair to say I gave it up for a life that means something to me and that it is my dearest wish that you might be part of it,” Castiel said. “I know we had an immediate connection and I want to build it into something that’s solid and real.”

“Why’d you wait so long? Four months. It’s been four months since you quit the royal gig,” Dean demanded. “Why’d you make me wait so long? Do you have any idea how much my inner Alpha has been going crazy waiting for you?”

“It takes time it disentangle a life like mine, Dean,” Angel said. “I came as soon as I could. I wasn’t even sure you would want me.”

“Not sure I would want you?”

With that, Dean couldn’t hold back a second. He walked forward and grabbed his Omega and swooped him into a full body embrace. Angel didn’t resist. He grabbed Dean in return and they buried their faces into each other’s necks, where the scent glands were the strongest. Dean pulled in deep nasal breaths, even opening his mouth a little to take it as much of that enchanting, gorgeous scent as he could, like spices, like home, like everything he’d ever wanted. Like Christmas had come all over again. 

“I’ve never wanted anything else like I’ve wanted you,” Dean said. “You’re it for me. I was gone the minute I saw you in that bar, even before you opened your mouth.”

“Me too,” Angel said. “I wasn’t even intending to walk in that bar, but I got a hint of your scent on the sidewalk outside and I followed it to you. I hope you never let me go again.”

“Never,” Dean promised. Then he realized something. Angel had gotten just the tiniest of guts. He was ever so slightly rounded where he’d been almost concave before. “Angel, are you? Did we? Is there something you need to tell me?”

Angel shook his head sadly, “No, I did not conceive your child that night, no matter how much I wished I had. I am putting on a little weight now that I’m out from under my mother’s thumb and I can eat as much as I wish. My assistant Meg assures me it looks good on me, but I’m not certain.”

“She’s not wrong, it’s a good look for you. You wanna go out for burgers to the Tip Top for dinner? I’m thinking about calling it a day here. It’s just a little early.”

“That would be lovely,” Castiel said. 

“Let me just get Baby put back together,” Dean said. “Go park your Mom van.”

Dean released Angel and got back under the hood, doing all of her loose parts back up so she’d be ready to go next time he could afford to do some serious driving. Castiel was by his side in a moment, looking down into Baby’s engine compartment with him. “I can’t say it isn’t irresponsible of you to burn fossil fuel like this, but I will concede it is a beautiful design. Absolutely perfect for what it is. What? I am an engineer by education. I designed the Grace Engine based on concepts discovered by my father.”

“You designed them? You know what’s going on in those little black boxes?”

“More or less,” Castiel said. “There are some elements I don’t think anyone will ever understand about how so much power is contained the Angelthenium, but yes. Would you like to see inside one?”

“Would I ever!” 

Somehow, their date at the Tip Top got forgotten, but their life together had started.

***

Dean rolled over in bed on Christmas morning. Angel was already awake, snuggled into his side. They were both naked still, having fallen asleep together last night right after making love. Angel was beautiful in the brilliant light that streamed in through the window of the cabin. It turned out Dean hadn’t given up the cabin at all. It might have been an LLC on the title, but it was Angel that had bought Bobby’s cabin when Dean sold it. Mostly, they lived together in town on the house on Main, down the street from Sam and the boys. Dean had wondered why Castiel hadn’t bought one of the big mansions they were building outside of town to accommodate Grace Industries executives and managers, but Angel insisted he wanted to live in a small comfortable home with Dean. “I’ve lived in palaces and castles and mansions, but none of them are home like the cabin and your house,” he’d said. 

They were out at the cabin for the holiday weekend though, where the snow could lie soft and white in drifts as far as Dean could see, piling up against the fence and the garage and shed, wind driven. Angel had gone all out for decorating this year and fancy white fairy lights were swathed over everything and he’d dragged in a whole trees worth of pine stages, it seemed. Plus the Christmas tree that seemed to take over half the main room. The old Angel tree topper had been Dean’s contribution. 

Angel slipped out of Dean’s arms, against Dean’s protests, explaining that he was human and did need to urinate sometimes. He was gone long enough that Dean thought maybe he should go look, see if something was up, but then just as Dean was about to get out of bed, Angel slipped back into it and threw his arms around Dean’s neck and squeezed hard. 

“Hey, not that I object, but is something up?” Dean asked.

“I’ve got a Christmas present for you,” Angel said. He disentangled himself just enough to hold out the white plastic stick he’d been holding in his hand, that Dean had missed. He knew what the stick was, but he turned it over, anxious with wanting to see what it said. It was something they’d both wanted so much, something they’d thought would come easy and fast and hadn’t. 

The two little lines they’d both been dying to see where there. Angel was going to have his baby. Could there be any better gift, any better holiday miracle?


End file.
